The Calm
by Just Stay HIV Positive
Summary: Shizuo has hated Izaya since the moment he met him, but standing over him prepared to deal the final blow he wonders. Bigger forces reveal themselves and Shizuo and Izaya may come to question the hatred they thought they knew. Violence. Possible Character Death. Possible Shizaya friendship. Maybe more. Now made with 91.5% more convoluted plot and an M rating.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am a sadist. I have accepted this.**

Heiwajima Shizuo really did hate violence. That might be a difficult truth to swallow if you were to see him fling a man across the street like a rag doll or lift a vending machine like it were made of cardboard, but this was the truth nonetheless. Of course, one could argue that it was his anger that was truly the problem. For example, if he could control his anger, he could live up to his name and wouldn't be the very incarnation of violence. It seemed like the logical choice. You couldn't really blame Ono-sensei for trying.

-DRRR-

"Hey! We can hear you in there. If you don't answer this door, we'll be forced to break it down!" Tom rapped again at the heavy wooden door, silencing the voices that had been talking in hushed tones and the occasional giggle on the other side.

"Seriously…" he sighed, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.

"We don't have the money, old man!" A voice called from the other side of the door, belligerent and breaking off with a snort at the end.

"Yeah!" jeered another voice, "You'll leave us alone if you know what's good for you! I know someone in the Awasuku-kai who wouldn't be happy to know you people are harassing us!"

"Geez," Tom muttered, shaking his head, "who do they think we collect money for anyway?" He glanced at his partner, a tall man wearing a bartender suit and sporting a shock of blond hair. This was Heiwajima Shizuo, the strongest man in Ikebukuro.

And he was pissed.

The problem with Shizuo was that he was a bit like a stick of dynamite. There were a couple of minor telltale signs that he was going to explode: a twitching eyebrow, a curled fist, but unless you knew what to look for you probably wouldn't see it until he was throwing something ridiculously heavy an absurd distance. Shizuo had no middle ground.

"Eh, Shizuo, if you could…" Tom indicated the door, already knowing the carnage that was sure to follow. Then the strangest thing happened.

Shizuo removed his blue sunglasses, tucking them safely in his vest pocket.

Normal so far.

He clenched a fist until the knuckles cracked.

Still normal.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

Not unusual.

And let it out slowly, relaxing completely and opening his eyes.

Definitely strange.

Calmly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, Shizuo strode over to the door and ripped it off the hinges. Wood splintered everywhere and for a moment the only sound in the apartment was the noise of wood chips hitting the ground. Then…

"Oh shit!" The handful of punks in the room that had until very recently been engaged in their card game dropped everything in panic and scrambled desperately for the makeshift weapons lying on the nearby couch. Tom watched in surprise as Shizuo calmly grabbed the lead pipe aimed for his head, ripping it out of his assailant's hands. He neatly sidestepped the baseball bat swung at his head and caught the arm of the man who had pulled a knife. Then with cold efficiency the bartender-turned-bodyguard delivered four swift punches and downed all the aggressive occupants of the room.

"Okay! Okay!" The fifth person sitting at the table hadn't gone for a weapon and he was holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I got it! I'll get your money!" Nearly tripping in his haste to get up, he continued to hold up his hands and walked slowly towards the hallway in the apartment.

"I'll get your money!" he repeated, disappearing around a corner. Tom eyed Shizuo curiously, wondering about the odd amount of restraint he had shown. Furniture hadn't even gone flying this time, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good couch right next to him. One of the punks on the floor groaned, but wisely stayed down. Shizuo looked over to Tom and for a moment the debt collector could have sworn he saw something truly frightening in his friend's gaze. The moment passed and the Shizuo he knew returned.

"Tch." The blond grumbled, dropping the, now bent, lead pipe he still held. He patted his pocket, finding the cigarettes he was looking for and lit one.

"Nice work," Tom commented, glancing at his watch. How long did it take to get 100,000 yen anyway?

"Thanks," grunted Shizuo, blowing a puff of smoke into the air and watching as it curled and dissipated. Tom cast a glance around the apartment. A state of the art sound system, gaming consoles and an expensive-looking computer were occupying most of the living room space. It was enough to make one wonder why these punks needed money in the first place. Of course, Tom knew better than to ask. Asking was above his pay grade.

Shizuo took a final puff of his smoke and snuffed it in one of the glasses left on the table. He glanced questioningly at Tom, clearly mirroring his senpai's thoughts.

"You don't think…" the bodyguard started, when he was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering in the next room. They exchanged looks; Tom's grimace and Shizuo's scowl. Hurrying into the adjoining room they discovered the window was indeed broken and the fifth man was already at the bottom of the fire exit ladder, jumping the last few rungs and hitting the ground hard. Shizuo gripped the windowsill until it cracked under his hands, completely unmindful of the broken shards of glass digging into his fingers. The man at the bottom shot a glance upwards, grinning and sprinting away. If he had been fleeing from anyone else, he would have made a clean getaway. But Heiwajima Shizuo was not anyone else. Grabbing a desk lamp off of a nearby end table, Shizuo stormed back towards the window. Then it happened again.

That bizarre change.

That deep breath and calmness.

It should have made Shizuo less frightening, but somehow it almost seemed to have the opposite effect. With casual ease, the former bartender threw the lamp nearly half a building block, pegging the running man directly in the back of the head with enough force to shatter the lamp and throw him to the ground where he remained. Just as quickly, the agitated Shizuo returned, the crease between his brows furrowing once again and his bloodied hand clenching.

 _Strange._ Tom mused to himself. Aloud, he said,

"Well, let's go collect our friend, shall we?"

-DRRR-

"Here," Tom offered Shizuo a Styrofoam cup, which he accepted gratefully.

"Thanks," Shizuo cupped the coffee in his hands, warming them against the icy chill. Ikebukuro didn't usually see snow in the winter, but the news had warned this year could be different. At any rate, they could expect cold temperatures and bone-chilling winds. The two men walked in companionable silence for some time, sipping at their respective beverages.

"Hey Shizuo," Tom began hesitantly, glancing over to him.

"Hm?"

"Is everything alright with you lately? You've been acting a little…well…different."

"Eh? Different how?" Shizuo sipped at his coffee, enjoying the pleasant burn as it warmed his throat and stomach.

"Well," Tom scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "Not that it hasn't been a nice change, but you've been…very…efficient lately. To be honest, this last week I can hardly recall you getting angry. Even when that one guy spit on you. I thought you were going to rip his head off, but…suddenly you just…I don't know….got very calm."

"Oh. That." Shizuo stopped walking for a moment, causing Tom to stop as well and look at his partner curiously. Shizuo glanced away, not quite meeting his senior's eyes. "I've been seeing someone…"'

"Really?" Tom grinned, taking a hearty swig of his own coffee, "Good for you! She must be quite something!"

"No! I mean, no it's not like that," Shizuo met Tom's gaze then. "I mean, I've been seeing someone to help me with…with the anger thing."

"Ah," Tom nodded understandingly. Shizuo shuffled his feet a moment, then continued walking, Tom following suit. They rounded a corner, getting out of the worst of the wind.

"So how is it going then?" Tom questioned, curious. Shizuo thought for a moment. How much should he tell his senpai? That Ono-sensei had never seen another case like his? How the doctor had told him he was ruled by his anger, and with his incredible strength, too dangerous for society? Should he mention The Calm? How it was the last resort to deal with the incredible danger that was his temper.

"It's okay," Shizuo began hesitantly, "He taught me a method of dealing with anger."

"That's what you've been using this past week?" Tom asked, looking up into Shizuo's eyes, coffee momentarily forgotten.

"Yeah, it's…like a meditation technique or something I guess. I feel really calm." Shizuo answered. Tom was silent for a moment, his face thoughtful.

"Well," he said at last, "I'll admit you _are_ calm during those times, but also…how do I put this? Cold? Efficient? To be perfectly honest, it's a little frightening to watch you throw a streetlamp three blocks with a look so casual you could be pouring tea." Shizuo frowned. It was hard to describe The Calm to someone who had never experienced anything like it before. Cold and efficient was pretty accurate, but it was more than that. He felt like a different person. Someone who wasn't ruled by anger. He could calmly assess any situation and instantly knew the best course of action. Without anger or guilt or hatred clouding his judgement, everything felt so…simple. He wondered with a sudden start, if this was how Kasuka always lived his life. It made sense that his younger brother was so successful then, Shizuo decided ruefully. Shizuo had apparently gotten enough wild emotions for the both of them.

"I suppose," Tom continued, "it's not really an issue. I'm glad you're finding something that works for you, Shizuo." He downed the last of his coffee with a smile and tossed the empty cup in a nearby trash receptacle. His smile disappeared for a moment to be replaced by a look of apprehension when a thought seemed to occur to him.

"I don't suppose since you've discovered this control you've run into…" The man with dreadlocks glanced over at Shizuo, leaving his sentence hanging. It didn't matter. They both knew what he meant. Or rather, who.

"No." Shizuo answered, shortly. In truth, part of him was worried. What if all of his hard work controlling his anger was for nothing? If there were any holes in his defenses to be found, doubtlessly _that man_ would find them.

 _Always ruining everything I work so hard for! No! He can't take this from me!_ Even thinking of him was getting Shizuo worked up. He could feel his brow twitch, his hand clenching…

"Shit…" He muttered as hot coffee ran out of the now-destroyed cup and over his hand. Scowling, he tossed the remains of his beverage into the trash, to join Tom's.

"Ah well," Tom was saying, not noticing his friend's frustration, "maybe it's for the best if you don't run into him for a while. C'mon, we still have to finish up two more houses in the south side…Shizuo?" Turning to look at the blond in question, Tom seemed to notice Shizuo hadn't moved since disposing of his coffee.

"Hey are you…" Tom trailed off when he followed Shizuo's gaze to the other side of the street. "Oh."

Apparently Orihara Izaya was not a man to miss a cue.

"IZAYA!" The usual hatred flowed through his veins, consuming him. _Kill. Kill. Kill._ The trashcan that had been sitting innocently next to him was flying before Shizuo could even comprehend what his body was doing. The man clad in black across the street was talking on his cell phone, but smirked and neatly sidestepped the projectile, managing to avoid even getting dust on himself when the wall behind him all but exploded with the force of the trashcan.

"I'm afraid I'll have to call you back," Even the his voice made Shizuo's blood boil, "No, it's nothing important, just a minor inconvenience. I'll talk to you in an hour." His grin widened as he snapped his phone shut, shoving it into the depths of his pocket.

"Sorry, Shizu-chan, I have places to be today, but I'll come by tomorrow if you're good." With a mock bow, Orihara Izaya, Shizuo's sworn enemy took off down the empty street. Shizuo took two steps before some part of his brain registered he was supposed to be doing something else.

 _The Calm!_ He took a deep breath, filling his lungs, and let it out slowly, simultaneously emptying the anger from his mind. It was harder this time. The hatred wanted back in. _No. No anger, no hatred. Nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing._ With a second deep breath, he felt his mind slip into to comfort of logic, completely free of all emotion.

 _ **Orihara Izaya is a pest. No. A disease. He spreads through this city and causes corruption.**_

 _ **He must be stopped. No. He must be killed. Nothing short of that will stop him.**_

 _ **I can kill him. Yes. I can do it.**_

Resolute with this thought process, Shizuo took off after Izaya, leaving Tom to shake his head and sigh. Izaya had a good head start on Shizuo and had already ducked down a back alley, but Shizuo followed, with dogged determination. For the first time following Izaya, Shizuo felt his mind completely clear. No longer clouded with thoughts of _Kill. Kill. Kill._ He was able to keep up, no, gain ground on the usually slippery informant. He marveled at the clarity. Suddenly he could tell which way Izaya intended to turn. The slight glance of his eyes, the angle of his shoulder, the placement of his feet. Shizuo had at first wondered if Izaya was being intentionally obvious, leading him into a trap, but then realized that these telltale signs had always been there, he had just never had the clarity of thought to notice them before.

Izaya glanced behind him, and Shizuo noticed the frown when he saw how closely the bodyguard was keeping up with him. Izaya made a hairpin turn, having to push off the wall of a building to keep his momentum and Shizuo followed suit, chasing the other towards the open. Vaulting effortlessly over a chain link fence, Izaya landed lightly next to the railway line, barely losing any speed. This was the moment Shizuo had been waiting for. Until now, the narrow alleys and tight corners hadn't let him throw anything, but in the open was where he excelled.

He leapt over the fence as well, though not as smoothly as Izaya and stopped to rip the top crossbeam of the fence off. It was as easy as opening the perforated top of a candy bar. Izaya turned around at the horrible screeching sound it made and noticed the bodyguards choice of weapon. He smirked, though through The Calm, Shizuo noted he was breathing heavily. Izaya spoke, no doubt saying some belittling and infuriating remark, but Shizuo found The Calm filtered it out.

 _ **Nothing he says matters.**_

 _ **Nothing he says can change anything.**_

 _ **This is truth.**_

 _ **This is what you need to do.**_

Shizuo lunged, his makeshift bat cocking back for a swing. Izaya tensed, prepared to spring away.

And Shizuo saw everything.

Izaya's glance left. The angle of his torso. How his weight leaned more heavily on his back right leg.

Shizuo swung.

Izaya leapt.

The pole connected.

In what seemed to be slow motion, Shizuo watched Izaya's face contort to surprise as the steel pole hit him in the chest. Several somethings cracked. The pole was not one of them. Izaya's body flew a good distance before tumbling parallel to the railway and landing in a heap.

A low whistle from afar announced a train approaching. Deep in The Calm, Shizuo's mind catalogued this noise and focused back to the task at hand. A groan emanated from the figure lying next to the tracks. Shizuo walked over, calmly. Izaya was slowly untangling himself, and trying with mixed success to prop himself up, while supporting his clearly broken ribs. His body shuddered for a moment before he convulsed and was noisily sick in a very red puddle by his side.

The train whistle sounded again, the warning bells from the street carrying over to the two men. The ground trembled slightly.

Izaya looked up as Shizuo approached. Despite his shakiness and the blood still coloring his chin, the informant smirked. He said something in a confident, arrogant tone. The Calm filtered this out though. Through The Calm, Shizuo could see only the truth. He could see the sickly pallor of Izaya's face. The way his eyes darted, nervously. The trembling in his hands.

 _ **He doesn't regret.**_

 _ **There's not a thing he's done that he's sorry for.**_

 _ **If given the chance, he would still do all those things to you.**_

 _ **He should know regret.**_

 _ **He should know the pain and loss you went through because of him.**_

 _ **You can do this. This isn't revenge. This is justice.**_

 _ **Not anger. Not hatred.**_ _ **Justice.**_

Shizuo dropped the pole. It clattered loudly against the railway tracks and Izaya flinched slightly at the noise. The informant watched Shizuo, nervously.

The whistle came again, much closer this time. The ground shook and the train whizzed by on the adjacent set of tracks. The sound drowned out everything else for a moment, the flashes of light between the cars illuminating the two men in brief glimpses. Then it was gone and it was just Shizuo and Izaya again.

 _ **Justice. For the scar he gave you the first day you met.**_

Shizuo moved forward and seized Izaya by the collar of his shirt, lifting him up. The dark-haired man hissed in pain, one hand clutching his ribs, the other delving into his jacket pocket. Already knowing what the hand was going to contain, Shizuo grabbed Izaya's arm, bending it the wrong way until he heard the snap. Izaya made a choked sound, his face draining of color.

 _ **Justice. For having you run over by a truck. Twice.**_

Shizuo grabbed Izaya's other arm and for the first time, possibly ever, Izaya's face showed real panic. He opened his mouth, no doubt to spout more useless words, but Shizuo wasn't listening. Another sharp snap signaled the breaking of Izaya's other arm. This time he screamed. Sharp and loud, it was cut off when Shizuo abruptly dropped him back to the ground.

 _ **Justice. For sending those gangs after you.**_

Breathing in shaky gasps, Izaya looked up at Shizuo, trying to keep the fear off his face. It didn't matter. He couldn't hide from The Calm. Izaya was speaking again. His voice raspy against the pain, and a vague undertone of pleading. Shizuo knelt next to him and put his hand on Izaya's collarbone. This time he felt the snap, rather than hearing it. Izaya let out a keening sound, too breathless to scream.

 _ **Justice. For making you lose the job Kasuka approved of. That deserves something special.**_

 _ **He doesn't care how hard you work to see the approval in Kasuka's eyes.**_

 _ **He doesn't deserve to see it.**_

 _ **He doesn't deserve to see anything.**_

Shizuo grabbed the sides of Izaya's head and placed his thumbs over his eyes, preparing to press down.

Underneath him, Izaya lost it. His voice went shrill with panic and desperation, trying to pull his head out of Shizuo's grasp.

 _ **A necessary violence for the goal of justice.**_

 _Wait…_

His thumbs froze just as he'd started applying pressure. Izaya had gone very still, only the wildly beating pulse under his hands telling Shizuo he was still alive and conscious.

 _ **That's not right. I hate violence. I know I do.**_

Shizuo frowned. While in The Calm, he knew he hated things, like violence and Izaya, but he didn't actually feel the hatred.

 _ **If I kill him, I've given in to the violence.**_

He was at a crossroad. He could feel it. This was the point in his life where he had to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life. If he killed Izaya here and now, he was acknowledging his hatred of Izaya forever trumping his hatred of violence. He would be a monster, truly, in his own eyes. On the other hand, if he let Izaya live, he was acknowledging his need to change, his need to surpass his own violence and his strength to do so.

 _ **What do I hate more? Violence, or Izaya?**_

Shizuo knew this was the decision that would determine the rest of his life. He also knew this wasn't a decision he could make in The Calm. With a deep breath, he released The Calm, emotion suddenly crashing back down on him. Anger from the chase, exhilaration at catching Izaya, satisfaction at making him hurt and surprisingly, a bit of guilt from his own cruelty. He looked down at Izaya who was breathing in short rapid breaths, shaking in pain, shock and quite possibly, fear. Shizuo tried to dissect what he felt. It was a lot at once. _Can I do it? Can I kill him?_ He tightened his grip and Izaya let out a sound that could have been a whimper.

 _No. If I killed him, I would hate myself more than I hate him now._ It was a strange feeling, being simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Shizuo reflected on this as he dropped his hands to his sides. Izaya let out a shaky breath of relief, cracking one eye open just enough to see Shizuo.

"I can't kill you," Shizuo told him flatly, "but stay the hell out of Ikebukuro." Shizuo straightened up and dusted off his knees, reaching for his cigarettes as he strode away.

"Shi-" A choked cough interrupted the faint voice. Shizuo glanced back in irritation.

"Don't make me change my mind." They were empty words; Shizuo had already given up the best opportunity he was likely to ever get. When he made a decision he stuck with it. He didn't have a middle ground.

"I-if you leave me here," Izaya coughed painfully, "then you have killed me-" Shizuo glared at the informant, watching him gasp for breath, noting how his eyes rolled back from the pain until he forced himself back into consciousness.

"Tch." Shizuo growled, pulling out his phone. He debated whether to call Celty or Shinra, deciding on the former. She would ask less questions. After calling the dullahan, Shizuo glanced again at Izaya. Despite the tremendous pain, he was smirking. _Unbelievable. How many bones do I have to break until he'll take me seriously?!_ Despite his earlier vow, he could feel his fist clenching. Something flickered in Izaya's eyes. Perhaps he still had some trace of The Calm left in him, or perhaps he'd simply never been this close to Izaya without actively trying to kill him before and never noticed it, but Shizuo recognized the moment of fear in the other's eyes. He wasn't sure why he felt a little disappointed by that. The knowledge that all along, Izaya might have actually been scared of him.

"I guess th-this means I win, Shizu-chan," Izaya rasped, still smirking.

"Shouldn't you be unconscious?" Shizuo ground out in reply, teeth clenched.

"If you don't hear me suffering," Izaya replied, his voice growing faint, "you might forget to feel guilty and leave me to die."

Shizuo frowned. Was Izaya afraid of dying alone? It seemed so…human. He was saved from thinking further about this as a horse's whinny announced the arrival of his friend, Celty.

Leaping the broken fence on her bike, Celty skidded to a stop in front of Shizuo. She glanced from him to Izaya's broken form on the ground and back again. _It figures. Now he passes out._ Taking out her phone her smoky fingers flew along the keys, tapping out a message. Shizuo held up his hands.

"I know, I know. But I really don't want to talk about it tonight, okay?" Celty hesitated a moment then nodded once and tapped out a shorter message.

 **Do you want to come with?** Shizuo sighed.

"Honestly, I can't think of anything I'd like to do less."

 **So…?**

"Yeah. I'm coming."

 **A/N: Eh. It's 3am and I have to be up at 6am. What the hell. That seems like a place to end.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This was never supposed to have a second chapter. Then plot happened. Also, my medical knowledge is limited to watching episodes of House and whatever I can find on Wikipedia. Don't judge me on that.**

 _He wasn't sure how long he had been running, but his chest was heaving and legs burning so he supposed quite a while. Honestly though, he couldn't even remember where he was going or what he was running from. A light suddenly appeared in front of him, blindingly bright and he was forced to lift his arms to shield his eyes. Pain erupted from his arms and with horror, he watched as they fell to the ground, severed from his body. A dark figure stood silhouetted against the blinding light and it moved towards him, smoothly, confidently. He took a step back, fear blossoming in his aching chest. The figure disappeared suddenly and he was left looking at the vaguely familiar light again. A low whistle reverberated through his chest._ Where did…? _And then the figure was in front of him, on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Panic was beginning to cloud all reason as he struggled against the dark figure, but it was futile. Backlit as the figure was, it was impossible to make out its expression, but he could see the cold, impassive eyes, glowing from its shadowy face. A dark hand covered his face, blinding him. He could feel the figure sitting heavily on him, pushing the air from his chest. Every breath was becoming a struggle._ I can't… _Something shoved its way into his mouth. Horrified, he tried to shake his head, lift his arms, even clench his teeth, but nothing worked. He gagged as the thing moved to the back of his mouth and shoved its way down his throat._ Wait! Stop!... I can't breathe… _He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, wild and erratic. The thing snaking down his throat reached his chest and pain like he'd never known erupted from it. He could actually feel his heart stutter as something wrapped around it and_ _ **squeezed**_.No! Don't!... _He thrashed, for all the good it did, adrenalized terror fueling his movements. His widened eyes locked with the impassive eyes of the figure._ Please… Don't… _Without a single change in its expression, the figure leaned forward and squeezed again. Warm, wet pain erupted in his chest as his pulse thundered then stopped entirely…_

"Nnngh." Everything hurt. _Get off…!_ His arms still wouldn't move and the pain was incredible. He blinked, the light painful, but not blinding. He was looking at a ceiling. _Where…?_ A head suddenly blocked the light and he felt a moment of terror at the indistinct figure before its features sharpened into a face wearing glasses and a bright smile.

"-aya." He hadn't realized the figure was speaking to him until he saw the mouth move, a slight crease of worry forming in the brow.

"Nnngh." He groaned again, trying to wrap his sluggish thoughts around where he was, who this person was and what the hell had happened to him. The uncertainty was worrying. He wasn't sure why, but he had the vague sense he was in danger.

"Izaya," The face said again, a little more concern this time. _Shinra. I'm at Shinra's._ Izaya relaxed a little and Shinra seemed pleased with the recognition in his eyes. The doctor's smile returned and he reached for Izaya's face, removing the breathing mask Izaya hadn't noticed until that moment.

"Izaya?" The underground doctor asked for at least the third time.

"Shinra." He croaked out in reply, frowning at the weak sound of his voice.

"Ah, hang on," Shinra reached for the bedside table, bringing a glass of water into view. He held the straw for Izaya who drank greedily. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until he started , but now-

"Slow down," Shinra cautioned. As if on cue, Izaya choked and coughed.

It hurt like all the fires of hell concentrated into the center of his chest.

For a moment he thought he would die, or at the very least pass out from the intense wave of pain. The tickle in his throat had not abated however, and he was forced to cough again, enduring another stab of pain. Izaya could feel his eyes tearing from pain, vision blackening at the edges as he coughed again. When he finally managed to stop, he glared at Shinra through watering eyes.

"I warned you," Shinra grinned, innocently. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a train-"

 _A low whistle sounded, and the ground trembled. A train flew by, rattling the tracks and illuminating the tall figure standing in front of him in brief glimpses._

Izaya frowned. Had that been a dream? What had actually happened?

"-all things considered," Shinra was saying, busying himself with an IV pole next to Izaya's bed, "you have seven broken ribs, two broken arms, a broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder, a probably concussion and one fantastic black eye." Izaya grimaced at the list of injuries, a little taken aback. Shinra, however turned to look him in the eye, his tone dropping to a more serious note.

"Also, you went through 12 liters of blood transfusion, the average human has 5 liters in their body by the way, and both of your lungs collapsed. You were on a ventilator until recently when you finally started breathing normally again. And your heart stopped." Izaya felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck at those words, especially when Shinra added: "Twice." The doctor turned away but Izaya could see the weariness Shinra tried to hide. It was his specialty after all.

"The second time…" Shinra said quietly, eyes far away, "I really thought…" The silence hung in the air a moment, louder than anything that could be said. Shinra broke it suddenly, grinning again.

"Seriously, if you had died I couldn't forgive you, you know. I have a perfect record so far. Never lost a patient." Izaya rolled his eyes, trying to shove down the uncomfortable knowledge of his own mortality.

"How long have I been here?" He suddenly asked, wondering how many appointments he was going to have to reschedule or apologize for missing.

"Three months." Shinra answered, absently, rifling through a cupboard stocked with medication. He turned back to Izaya's aghast face, grinning mischievously.

"Bastard," Izaya spat out, equally relieved and irritated. Shinra just grinned wider.

"It's been nearly five days," At Izaya's raised eyebrow, Shinra added, "honestly." _Five days?! I've been out for five days?!_ Shinra came over to his bedside, with a syringe of clear liquid.

"I'm going to give you some extra morphine for now to help with the pain. You should try to get some more sleep." Izaya frowned. He hated the way the narcotics clouded his mind, but the pain really was wearing on him. He knew Shinra was aware that the very fact he wasn't protesting was an indication of just how badly his body ached.

"I didn't want to increase your dose until your breathing stabilized, but you seem to be doing well now," Shinra was rambling as he depressed the plunger on the syringe, depositing the morphine into Izaya's IV. "If you feel any shortness of breath though, make sure you let me know immediately."

A question suddenly occurred to Izaya. He looked through his memories and found the answer frustratingly missing. The drug was already starting to work though and he could feel his eyelids growing heavy and thoughts turning sluggish.

"Shinra? What happened?" Was his voice slurring already?

"I don't know the details myself," Shinra was saying. Why did his voice sound so far away? He was still standing right next to him as far as Izaya could tell. "Celty didn't know and Shizuo didn't really say much when they brought you here."

"Shiiizuushaaa?" He was definitely slurring words now. Shizuo had…?

 _Shizuo hoisted him up by the front of his shirt until they were eye level, Izaya's ribs loudly protesting the motion. The edges of his vision were fuzzing but he glared directly in front of him; at Shizuo's brown eyes, usually dark with anger, now flat and cold. He hadn't responded to a single thing Izaya had said. Not even the taunt about Kasuka disowning him as a brother out of shame. Izaya reached for his switchblade, but Shizuo caught his arm before his fingers could touch it. Shizuo's expression was completely devoid of any emotion; anger, satisfaction, guilt, not even a spark of sadistic joy as the blond bent Izaya's elbow backwards until it gave with a wet snap…_

DRRR

Shinra sighed as Izaya's eyes finally closed. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told the other of his condition. Disposing of the used syringe, the underground doctor washed his hands, his mind wandering back to the evening five nights ago. He and Celty had just settled into the couch, ready for their weekly movie night, him with a giant bowl of popcorn and her with an overstuffed pillow when Celty's phone had rang.

 **A/N: Izaya is difficult to write. I feel like I make him too human.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'll have you know I've actually drafted an outline for this plot. This is nigh unheard of for me. Also, thanks to the research I've done, I discovered the sharp pain in my chest I woke up with the other day was a spontaneously partially collapsed lung. Scary shit.**

-Five days earlier-

Shinra settled into the sofa, a bowl or freshly popped corn nestled between his legs. He had been waiting for this evening the entire week. He grinned at his fiancé sitting next to him, hugging a large comfortable pillow to her chest. The headless woman leaned against him, sending pleasurable tingles through his skin.

"Do you remember what episode we were on?" Shinra asked, picking up the remote from the armrest, "Ah right, the finale! Don't worry, I'm sure they won't actually execute Ned," the doctor continued, answering his own question. He hit the play button on the remote, snuggling as close as Celty would allow.

The orchestral opening credits were suddenly interrupted by the shrill sound of Celty's phone ringing. The dullahan palmed the device, glancing at the screen before answering the call.

"Celtyyyy," Shinra pouted, "we agreed not to let work interrupt our Friday night movie time…" Celty listened to the caller and Shinra felt her stiffen suddenly next to him. _That's never a good sign…_ The headless woman ended the call, quickly tapping out a message for Shinra.

 **That was Shizuo. He said it was an emergency. He has someone who is very injured.**

"Why not call an ambulance?" Shinra asked, brow furrowing. He could already guess the answer to that question though, given Shizuo's tendency to throw heavy objects at people and his already tenuous relationship with the law.

 **I don't know, but he sounded strange. I'm worried.** Celty flashed Shinra this message as she stood up, causing Shinra let out a sigh of disappointment.

"Celtyyy…" Shinra complained again, following her to the entryway.

 **I'll make it up to you.** Celty replied, fitting her helmet on top of the smoke billowing from her neck. Shinra couldn't help the grin that split his face at thought of his beloved Celty making this up to him by-

 **DON'T GET ANY WEIRD IDEAS!** The dullahan tapped out, furiously, smoke curling from under the helmet in what Shinra knew to be a flustered blush.

"I shall eagerly await your return!" Shinra called out after Celty as she led her motorcycle to the elevator, a huge smile still secure on his face. The elevator door closed with a ding and the doctor felt his smile slip from his lips. _Emergency huh?_

He made his way back to the living room, sighing as he clicked off the Blu-ray player and TV. _This is going to be bad. I can feel it._ He made his way to the back room of his apartment, clicking on the light to his patient room. With another defeated sigh, Shinra began to check over his first aid supplies, trying to ignore the apprehension building in his chest. _Maybe it won't be as bad as I think…_

Who was he kidding? Of course it was going to be bad. No one called an underground doctor on a Friday night with an emergency if it was anything other than really, really bad. It was his life. The life he had chosen.

 _I just have to try to stay positive. Keep smiling. No matter what, I still have Celty. That's all that matters._

-DRRR-

Lights blurred together as Celty leaned hard into a tight turn, left leg nearly parallel to the ground. The wind tore at her tight clothing and she was surprised to find herself shiver. Dullahans were much more resilient to natural climates than humans, but this evening seemed to be especially cold. Maybe she just missed the warmth of a body nestled next to her on the couch. _I do feel bad about leaving Shinra, but…_

The sounds of traffic sirens caused her to perk up, suddenly hyper-aware. She relaxed slightly when she realized they were coming from way off somewhere else. The Traffic Police Force was the last thing she needed to deal with now. Celty steered her mount next to the chain link fence, following it out of the residential area and into the industrial district. She didn't have to go far before she made out a lone figure standing next to the railway line on the opposite side of the fence.

Using a drainage culvert as an improvised ramp, Celty and Shooter easily cleared the fence and skidded to a stop, kicking up a spray of gravel. Shizuo glanced at her and for a moment she was struck by the expression on his face. He seemed conflicted. Not angry necessarily, which would be normal enough for the blond, not relieved or guilty or even frustrated, but some strange amalgamation of all three.

It was then that Celty noticed the figure lying behind him next to the tracks. It only took a moment for her to recognize the familiar black coat and dark hair. _Oh no…_ She took in the way his arm was bent the wrong way, the irregular shape of his chest and stuttered breathing… _Shit…_ Celty glanced back at her friend. _This explains a lot but…_ She pulled out her phone, composing a question.

"I know, I know. But I really don't want to talk about it tonight, okay?" Shizuo spoke tiredly, interrupting her mid-message. Celty glanced at Izaya's far-too-still body quickly before acknowledging that questions could wait. Though transporting the informant back might be tricky unless… Celty hesitated only a moment before asking:

 **Do you want to come with?**

-DRRR-

 _How did I end up here?_ Shizuo wondered, clutching the back of the bike's seat with his left hand as Celty accelerated down a straight stretch of road. With his other hand he supported a bundle of tightly wrapped shadows that Celty had encased Izaya in, with hope that it would support his battered frame from any more damage. The bike was a pretty smooth ride, all things considered, but there was only so much one could do when one was doubling and tripling speed limits, weaving dangerously close to traffic. In truth, Shizuo was glad for the distraction of the harrowing race down the streets of Ikebukuro. It prevented his mind from turning to other thoughts.

Like how close he had come to becoming a murderer.

Like how he had decided to let Izaya live.

Like that brief flicker of fear in the flea's eyes.

Like how easy it would be to crush Izaya right now, or even drop him and never have to worry about anything ever again…

Maybe Celty needed to drive a little faster. Shizuo felt his hands clench slightly and refused to look down at the bundle he held. He focused his attention straight ahead, looking over Celty's shoulder and trying to anticipate the stomach-clenching weaves and turns the dullahan made.

In an instant that simultaneously took forever, Shizuo found himself in front of the tall apartment building that Celty and Shinra called home. The next few moment passed in a blur as Celty quickly lifted the shadow encased Izaya from the bike and transported him to the elevator, Shizuo following awkwardly behind.

 _What am I even doing here?_ Shizuo wondered, shifting from foot to foot, hand absently going to his pocket for a cigarette before his mind remembered Shinra didn't allow him to smoke inside. They arrived on the tenth floor.

"Celty!" The excited voice of the strange underground doctor that Shizuo sometimes called friend called out, the man himself rounding the corner to greet them. "I didn't expect you to be so quick! Ah! Shizuo! What's the emergency that you called-" Shinra's smile vanished. His face paled visibly as his eyes fell on the form Celty was carrying. Shizuo didn't meet his gaze, but it didn't matter. The doctor wasn't looking at him right then anyway.

Shinra took a shaky breath and seemed to compose himself. When he spoke, it was with a calm authority of a man who knew every second counted.

"Celty, please bring him to the back room. Shizuo, follow me." The blond glanced up sharply, but Shinra had already turned away, leading Celty to the bedroom-turned-hospital in the back of the apartment. Shizuo frowned, deciding whether to protest or just leave.

" _If you leave me here, then you have killed me-"_

"Tch." He fought down the rising frustration, debating whether to slip into The Calm or not.

 _For some reason… I can't help but think I might still try to kill him if I did…_ It was a strange thought. Hadn't he decided not to kill Izaya? What about his triumph over his own violent urges? _It just seems like the simplest solution…_ Shizuo's frown deepened. _What-_

"Shizuo." The calm way Shinra called his name surprised him. Gone was Shinra's excitable personality, goofy nature and carefree attitude. In its place was this professional, collected person. For the first time, Shizuo could actually believe Shinra when he said he was a qualified medical professional.

Shizuo entered the medical room, sniffing at the antiseptic smell. It reminded him of his own childhood spent in hospitals with a plethora of broken bones, pulled muscles and ripped tendons. His eyes wandered over the shelves, stocked with IV drip bags, neatly organized vials and various other medical equipment he vaguely recognized before resting on the figure lying on the cot.

He blinked in surprise.

In some part of his mind he had registered that he had seriously injured Izaya, but displayed under the clinical white lights, without that infuriating smirk to disguise the truth, Shizuo fully realized just _how_ badly he was hurt.

Izaya's face nearly matched the white sheets he lay on, save for the right side of his head matted with blood in various stages of drying covering his already swollen eye. His chest seemed oddly misshapen and stuttered instead of expanding the way it should.

"Scissors please," Shinra asked, softly taking the requested tool without even looking as Celty passed them to him. With careful, precise snips, the doctor cut through Izaya's shirt, peeling the dark material from his chest. Shizuo swallowed thickly at the irregular ridges or Izaya's ribs concaved in a brutal patch of bruised and bloodied skin that stretched from his right armpit down to his hip.

"Stethoscope," Shinra requested quickly. Shizuo began to edge out of the room, but without looking up, Shinra called to him. "Shizuo I need you to prepare an IV. I need a large bore IV with three 18 gauge needles. Celty, I have some O negative in the fridge behind you."

"Ah…" Shizuo hesitated, "I don't…"

"The green needle from the drawer over there. Cannula tubing is below. I'll need the medical tape as well." Shinra didn't even spare the blond a glance, his face a mask of concentration as he carefully probed Izaya's chest. "Flail chest, doubtlessly pulmonary contusions as well…" The doctor muttered, moving a hand to Izaya's neck to check for pulse. "Celty, do you remember how to attach the EKG?" Celty nodded, and Shinra seemed to somehow know without even looking at her.

Shizuo moved past the dullahan, opening the drawer Shinra had indicated. Inside were an array of needles, neatly arranged. Gingerly selecting three of the needles with green plastic at the end, Shizuo moved to the lower drawer, filled with bundles of plastic tubing. _What the hell am I doing here?_ He wondered for the umpteenth time this evening. He still didn't have an answer.

Holding the needles and tubing at arm's length as if they would bite him, Shizuo moved awkwardly next to Shinra.

"Uh…"

"On the tray next to me," Shinra said, picking up the scissors again, "I need the medical tape, too."

"…right,"

"Sorry about this, Izaya," Shinra muttered snipping through the sleeve of the unconscious man's jacket. He grimaced when he reached Izaya's elbow, putting the scissors down. "Fracture of the ulna," Shinra muttered, turning the arm carefully. Shizuo moved away quickly, looking around the counter for the medical tape the doctor had mentioned.

"Right arm it is then," Shinra said aloud, moving to the other side of the cot.

"Uh…" Shizuo cleared his throat, awkwardly, suddenly reminded again of just how much damage he had caused.

It was strange.

He was so used to destroying things; it felt a little surreal to be on the other side of things.

Trying to put a broken thing back together.

"Supracondylar humerus fracture," Shizuo detected a note of near-exasperation in Shinra's voice and glanced guiltily at the underground doctor who stood on the far side of the cot, scissors in hand, examining Izaya's other arm, bent and swollen to nearly twice it's normal size. Celty looked up from sticking adhesive pads on the informant's chest and Shizuo turned away, not meeting her questioning look.

"Fine. The saphenous vein then," Shinra didn't waste time, moving to the end of the bed and removing Izaya's shoe and sock. He cut quickly up the pant leg, Izaya's jeans parting under the surgically sharp blades. Shizuo turned away, focusing all of his attention on finding the elusive medical tape, deciding he really didn't need to see any more.

A squeal sounded from the machine Celty was fiddling with until she adjusted it, resulting in a rhythmic beeping. Shizuo jumped for a moment, glancing again at the pale figure lying on the bed, wires running from his bruised and battered chest, and somehow wondered how someone so nefarious could suddenly seem so vulnerable. Claims of monsters and deities aside, Izaya was still human.

"Shizuo, the tape, please," Shinra said firmly, holding his hand out to the blond. Shizuo looked down to his own hands, surprised to find himself holding the requested item. Numbly, he passed the tape to Shinra, wondering if he would be allowed to leave yet.

The doctor deftly secured the three needles in Izaya's upper leg with the tape, attaching the flexible hose to the ends. Celty passed him the IV pole without being asked and Shizuo once again wondered what purpose he really served here.

"Decreased heart rate, deviated trachea…" Shinra was mumbling again, moving towards Izaya's head, "Tension pneumothorax brought on by the flail chest… We need to intubate, but first…" Shinra grabbed a syringe from the shelf, ripping off the plastic cover with his teeth and to Shizuo's shock, stabbed the needle into Izaya's chest. There was a soft hiss of air.

"Celty, we need to insert a chest tube. Shizuo, I need a laryngoscope from the last cupboard on the right." Shizuo was starting to get fed up with requests he didn't understand in a language that couldn't possibly be Japanese.

"Look, why don't I just get out of the way? Celty can-"

"No," Shinra interrupted, "I'm going to need her to leave,"

"What?" Shizuo and Celty both looked sharply at the underground doctor who was grimly adjusting the IV. "Celty I'm going to call in that favor Jin from the blood bank owes me. I need you to pick up ten units of blood at Ikebukuro General Hospital. Fast." There was a frozen moment in the room before Celty nodded once, sharply and hurried from the room.

"Shinra, I can't-" Shizuo began helplessly, regretting every decision that had led up to this point.

"Laryngoscope, Shizuo," Shinra answered, removing a scalpel from its sterile packaging. The bartender opened the cupboard looking hopelessly through the assortment of medical tools that he could only guess the purposes of.

He was interrupted by the rhythmic beeping machine when it suddenly stopped beeping rhythmically and started wailing again.

It was the first crack in Shinra's mask of calm efficiency.

Shinra's eyes widened with panic, looking up from what he was doing to the wailing machine.

"Shit…he's crashing…"

-DRRR-

-Present Day-

Shinra rubbed his forehead, as if the motion would dispel the memories. He had lived through his own personal hell this past week.

He was one man.

One doctor, even a highly trained one such as himself was no substitute for a team of emergency medical professionals. Celty was wonderful, to be sure, and he couldn't ask for a more sexy nurse, but she couldn't replace an EMT.

Shinra looked over to the other side of his bed, smiling fondly at his fiancé who was sleeping soundly. Even so, he would give up anything, absolutely anything for this moment here and now. Stretching his arms above his head Shinra suddenly frowned when he heard a noise from the room next door. _Izaya, I swear if you are trying to get out of bed I will personally break your legs._ Hearing the distinctive rattle of the IV pole in motion, Shinra sighed and sat up, swinging his legs out of bed. He picked his glasses up from the bedside table, settling them on his nose.

"I'll be back, my sweet Celty," Shinra crooned, smiling softly at the love of his life. Padding softly out of his bedroom, he made his way to the adjacent room.

Expecting the worst, Shinra was surprised to see Izaya still laying in the cot, eyes closed.

"You're not sleeping," Shinra told him flatly. Izaya opened one eye and smirked.

"Aren't you observant?"

"Mm," Shinra hummed in agreement, picking up his penlight from the nearby table. Despite Izaya's protests, Shinra insistently checked his pupil dilation, shining the light first in his left eye, then the right, trying to be mindful of the bruised skin surrounding it.

"Satisfied?" Izaya grumbled, blinking rapidly.

"Your pupils are reactive, even with the morphine…" Shinra trailed off, tapping his chin, thoughtfully.

"What?" His friend complained, noting the look in Shinra's eye. The underground doctor studied Izaya, noting the drawn look on his face, the clenched jaw, in spite of the smirk, the beading sweat on his forehead.

With a sudden motion, Shinra ripped the blanket off of Izaya, flourishing it like a matador in a bull fight.

"Hey!" Izaya yelled, "that's hardly fair! How am I supposed to hold on?" He nodded indicating his casted right arm, supported in a sling and the slightly more mobile left arm, restricted by a splint. Shinra's eyes narrowed and he reached under Izaya's legs, bare below the hospital gown that only came to his knees, ignoring the informant's protests.

"What I'd like to know, is how you managed to pull these out," Shinra replied holding up the three IV needles that were definitely not where they were supposed to be. Shinra felt a brief moment of guilt at the humiliation that flashed in his friend's eyes. Despite his job, or maybe because of it, Izaya valued his own privacy a lot and Shinra had just tread all over it.

Izaya grinned then, and part of Shinra hated how easily he saw through it. It was the fake smile of someone pretending they were in control when everything in their life had spiraled so completely out of control.

"Seriously, you know I'm trying to help you, right?" Shinra sighed.

"Hmm," Izaya responded indifferently closing his eyes and offering a one-armed shrug. Shinra shook his head and began to clean up the needles, disposing of them in a sharps container. He moved to the sink, washing his hands.

"Don't you think this needs to end?" Shinra asked suddenly, his voice serious.

"Hm?"

"This rivalry with Shizuo. I told you, didn't I? I really don't want to see one of my friends dead and that's where this is heading. Where it almost ended up." Izaya was quiet for long enough that Shinra turned to look at him.

"Shizu-chan…" Izaya murmured, his eyes distant. Suddenly his eyes snapped open, locking with Shinra's. "I don't want anything to do with him," he pronounced.

Shinra didn't miss the way his friend's voice shook even though he pretended to.

"Well," the doctor sighed, "I was hoping you could get along, but at this point that might be best." Shinra said, tidying his counter space and arranging his medical instruments.

Syringe.

Bottle of morphine.

That was strange. Where was…?

"Who all knows I'm here?" Izaya's voice was suddenly tight with worry. He had more than enough enemies who wouldn't want to pass up an opportunity like this.

"Don't worry," Shinra answered, tapping the syringe to get the air bubbles out, "Only me, Celty and Shizuo."

"Shizu-chan knows I'm here?" Surprise. Worry. Maybe a hint of anxiety?

"He and Celty brought you here," Shinra replied, nodding in satisfaction at the syringe.

"…"

Shinra moved over to Izaya's side with the syringe. Izaya eyed it, coldly.

"I don't want it," Izaya scowled, "You know I hate how opiates mess with my head."

"You're going to heal more slowly if your body is constantly fighting the pain." Shinra shrugged, "and since you decided to remove your IVs, this is going to be unpleasant. I'm sorry in advance."

Izaya tensed suspiciously.

"What do you-" Shinra grabbed Izaya's leg, pinning it down and plunged the injector into the fleshy part of his upper thigh. Izaya yelped, partly in pain, partly in surprise and partly in indignation.

"Damnit Shinra," Izaya hissed, glaring at the doctor. Izaya's frustration at his own lack of ability was starting to wear on him; Shinra could see his eyes shine with a suspicious amount of moisture. Disposing of the injector and washing his hands again, Shinra gave Izaya time to compose himself.

"I really am trying to help you," Shinra lectured half-heartedly, "I've been working very hard to keep you alive, you know." Shinra dried his hands, tossing out the paper towel.

"Trust me." Shinra murmured.

He turned to face his friend.

Izaya's eyes were already closed and this time the doctor knew it to be genuine.

Shinra sighed and walked over to the bed, replacing the blanket. Glancing again to his instrument tray, he reached under Izaya's pillow and wasn't terribly surprised to find his missing scalpel.

He hesitated a moment before replacing it under the pillow.

Shinra sighed. Izaya didn't trust anyone.

 **A/N: Sorry about the medical abomination I've created. I still struggle writing Izaya, but thank you all for your kind words.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I hate OC's. Alas, they are a necessary evil sometimes.**

Fujiwara Jirou paced anxiously. He checked his phone again, as if he could have somehow missed a message since the last time he had checked it, two minutes ago.

Seven days.

It had been one week of this torture and he could feel himself reaching his limit. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate on work…

Jirou clenched the phone tighter in his hand until the plastic began to creak. _What if he's already made that information public?_ It was hardly the first time the thought had crossed his mind since that morning nearly two months ago when he had opened up a mysterious email to find pictures of himself with a young blonde woman he had met at the bar one drunken night. Attached had been a simple message:

 **It would be a real shame if your wife were to see this. Luckily for you, you can stop that from happening.**

Since then, he had been steadily feeding the sender of this email, who went by 'Nakura', a stream of information about the company he worked for.

He knew the risks.

He knew that "Yodogiri Antiquities" was really just a front for Japan's largest black market. But what was he supposed to do? He just worked with the finances. He sat behind a desk and looked at numbers all day. Surely he could plead ignorance to the drug trading, the money laundering and the human trafficking if the authorities ever got ahold of that information. No, the real issue was if his boss ever found out…

"Damn it," spat Jirou, glaring at his cell phone as if it were responsible for this. He debated whether to try calling again. He had already left six messages that had been pointedly ignored by Nakura and as much as he didn't want to seem desperate… he was.

"Everything alright, Jirou?" Sakamoto Eiji grinned at him over the top of his square glasses. Brought abruptly out of his thoughts, Jirou frowned at the shaggy-haired man in front of him. Eiji worked in 'personnel' and had always rubbed Jirou the wrong way. Everyone else saw him as an easy-going, friendly guy, but Jirou could tell it was all a fake persona.

"Fine," Jirou grunted, shoving his phone deep into his pocket, "do you have the paperwork I need?"

"Here you go," Eiji handed him a clipboard, smile still in place. Jirou scanned the pages, no longer impressed by the staggering amounts of money listed within.

"You seem really tense lately," Eiji commented, adjusting his glasses, "I was just making sure nothing was troubling you." Jirou frowned, glancing up at the too-wide smile the other man wore, before returning to his work.

"It's nothing," he replied, shortly.

"Maybe you're working too hard," Eiji continued, unmindful of Jirou's growing coldness, "perhaps you need to relax, hit a bar," his voice lowered an octave, "…find a pretty young lady…" Jirou looked up sharply, blood draining from his face. _No…_ Eiji gave a low chuckle.

"I can't believe you would be using the office computer to answer such personal emails," Eiji grinned in an almost predatory way, "Can you imagine what the boss would think?"

"I-I didn't have a choice!" Jirou pleaded, the forgotten clipboard hitting the floor with a clattering sound, "please, I need this job! I can't afford to be fired!"

"Fired?" Eiji snorted in disbelief, "you can't really be that naïve can you? Don't tell me you don't actually know what goes on here. Do you really think people that sell information on finances, names and merchandise are _fired_? They disappear without a trace. A company like this? They have access to mercenaries, assassins, interrogators…"

"W-wait.." Jirou could feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He knew Eiji was right, he just didn't want to believe it…

He couldn't breathe.

His vision was darkening.

"So tell me, you _have_ __been sending information to that Nakura guy, haven't you?" _Damn it, I can't believe I'm being doubly blackmailed…wait…_

"I only work with numbers. Only finances." Jirou told the other slowly, "I don't have access to any names or lists of merchandise…" Eiji cocked his head, grin wavering ever so slightly. "…but you work in personnel. You have access to all that information. Information that has also been leaked, hasn't it?"

Eiji wasn't smiling anymore. Jirou continued, feeling more confident now.

"He's been blackmailing you too, hasn't he? And you were trying to pin it all on me!" Eiji frowned, opening his mouth to retort before closing it again. A moment passed as the two men stared each other down and Jirou could feel anger starting to replace the fear he'd felt moments ago.

Eiji broke the silence by sighing and pulling an electronic device out of his pocket. He clicked the 'stop' button on the recorder, his smile reforming.

"That was my plan," he admitted, tossing the recorder in the air and catching it, nimbly, "but you were a lot more clever than I anticipated."

"You bastard," Jirou growled, clenching his fists and moving forward a step. Eiji held up his hands placatingly.

"Hey, the way I see it, we have a common enemy now. Instead of fighting each other, we could work together to take down our real enemy." Jirou hesitated. He didn't trust Eiji. Even less so now, but to be free from under Nakura's thumb…

"How do you plan to do that?" The allure of being free was too great to deny.

Even if it meant working with this bastard.

"Well," smirked Eiji, "I happened to learn his real name from Kousuke, and with a bit of digging even got his address."

"Kousuke?" Jirou frowned, "How did he know about this? He got fired almost a month ago." Eiji rolled his eyes, looking at Jirou over the rim of his glasses.

"What did I just tell you about people getting fired?" He asked, exasperated. Jirou felt his stomach clench.

"Nakura was blackmailing him too? How many people does he have selling him information?" Jirou was starting to get the feeling this was a lot bigger than he originally thought.

"Honestly, I don't really care," Eiji shrugged, "all I want is to be able to live my life without looking over my shoulder all the time."

"Yeah…me too I guess," Jirou nodded, "so what do I have to do?"

"Well," Eiji grinned, predatorily again, "do you think you could manage to move some money around? Say, ten million yen?" Jirou frowned. Ten million was nothing. Moving that much would be child's play.

"I could…" he replied, carefully, "depending on what you need it for…"

"I know of several contacts who specialize in... taking care of these kinds of situations." Jirou snorted. _Does he intend to hire some assassin or something?_

"Like who?"

"Have you ever heard of a Shimono Hideki?" Jirou felt the blood leave his face for the second time that morning. Eiji chuckled.

"I assume that's a yes."

-DRRR-

 _Izaya's elbow gave with a wet sounding snap. Pain shot through his arm like liquid fire, burning from his fingertips to his shoulder. The words he'd been about to say died on his lips, forgotten in the torrential wave of pain that wracked his body. Izaya tried to inhale, but the breath caught in his throat, his body going limp and vision darkening for a moment before clearing. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep what was left of his stomach contents where they belonged._

 _The knife he'd been about to pull out of his coat was forgotten, either somewhere on the ground below him or still in the recesses of his pocket. It didn't really matter, he couldn't reach it now anyway._

 _Shizuo dropped grabbed his other arm, hauling it away from where it had been holding his ribs and squeezing._ Is he going to break all my bones? _Izaya's stomach dropped at the thought, adrenaline pouring through his body and sharpening his mind._ I don't know if I can actually…

" _Shi-"_

 _Snap._

 _Izaya's vision turned white for a heartbeat, mind screaming, ears ringing. His ribs protested and he realized the screaming was actually coming from him. Shizuo's dispassionate eyes bored into his and the blond dropped him to the ground._

 _Pain._

 _Agonizing pain as every injury made itself known upon collision with the unforgiving ground._

He's going to kill me.

 _Fear. True fear blossomed in his chest, clenched at his heart and made his head buzz._

He's really going to. I'm going to die…

 _Izaya inhaled a shaky, unsatisfying breath. He was feeling lightheaded with terror and lack of oxygen. Shizuo stood above him. Backlit by the light, his face was nothing but a shadow, surrounded by a glowing nimbus. For some reason, the image evoked a fear deeper than anything he'd ever known. Something primal and instinctive recoiled in him._

" _W-wait," he rasped, hating the sound of his voice, "what would Kasuka say… if he knew… his brother was… a killer…" Talking was difficult; he couldn't seem to get enough air. Apparently it was all for naught anyways as Shizuo's cold eyes didn't even flicker at the words. He knelt next to Izaya, placing a hand on his shoulder._

I don't want to die…

 _Shizuo pushed, palm pressing heavily on Izaya's collarbone until it gave. Spikes of pain erupted throughout his shoulder. Izaya had given up all pretenses of holding in his cries of pain, but he found he didn't even have the breath to scream. His vision darkened again and for a brief moment, he saw himself from above. His face streaked with blood, his arm at a strange angle, chest misshapen and too still…_

 _Izaya choked on his next breath, tasting blood. His vision wavered and blurred with the pained tears rolling down his cheeks. He could feel his pulse in every broken part of his body, his entire being aching in time to his heartbeat._

I don't want to die…

 _Shizuo leaned forward, grabbing the sides of Izaya's head, fingers curling painfully into his hair._

This isn't supposed to happen. I don't want to die…

 _Shizuo's thumbs moved over his eyes, slowly applying pressure._

 _Izaya's mind filled with the image of Shizuo's incredible strength. Fingers that could bend steel and punch through brick, pressing on the most sensitive part of his face. Pressing Izaya's eyes into the back of his skull would be easy for the beast, popping them like overripe fruit…_

" _Shizuo!" He was screaming, horror and adrenaline lending his voice power, "Wait waitwaitwait! Don't-" His chest heaved, even the pain forgotten for the moment against the onslaught of terror._

 _The pressure increased and his vision exploded with a starburst of colors and beyond that, an imposing dark figure, an aura of blindingly white light behind him…_

Izaya woke with a startled gasp, blinking rapidly. He scanned the room wildly, only letting out a shaky breath when he was suitably convinced he was alone. His heart still thundered in his chest, making his ribs and head ache sharply.

Izaya closed his eyes for the moment, trying to steady his breathing. _That's what happened, huh?_ He opened his eyes slowly, trying to ignore the cold sweat that had formed on the back of his neck.

His body hurt more than it had last time he'd woken up and his head, in spite of the throbbing headache, felt relatively clear. A quick examination of his body confirmed his suspicion that Shinra hadn't replaced the IV lines. Izaya felt oddly grateful for that fact. He really hated how morphine muddled his thoughts.

As the informant looked around the room thoughtfully he became aware of another pressing issue.

He had to pee.

Actually, he _really_ had to pee.

Izaya glanced at the door, knowing the bathroom was a mere ten steps down the hall. An inconsequential distance normally. A marathon right now. _Like hell I'm asking for help going to the bathroom._

Izaya grit his teeth and mentally prepared himself for the task of sitting up. He briefly wondered how Shinra had dealt with his bodily functions for the last few days before deciding he would rather stay blissfully ignorant and entertain the delusion that his body had simply been frozen for the last five or six days.

Izaya propped himself up with his left elbow, trying to ignore the resulting pain shooting through his forearm, and lurched forward, his ribs singing with agony. He sat for a moment, catching his breath. _How can sitting up be so difficult?!_ He wondered, more bitterly than he intended. To his surprise and horror his eyes began to sting, frustrated tears forming. _Get ahold of yourself, Orihara!_ He mentally scoffed, _this is absurd!_

Izaya scowled, blinking back the moisture and hating his own weakness. With renewed determination, he grabbed the blanket in his fingertips, his hand mostly immobilized by the splint, and pulled it back, revealing his bare legs.

 _At least that beast didn't break my legs._ The thought of not being able to walk, possibly ever again, made Izaya swallow heavily. _When did I get so easily distracted?_ He wondered absently, carefully placing his bare feet on the cold floor.

Standing wasn't quite as difficult. Izaya slowly slid off the bed, letting his legs do the work of catching himself. They trembled slightly and he distantly wondered when he had last eaten. He made his way, with shuffling steps, to the door, even that motion making his ribs and shoulder spark with pain.

The door took an embarrassingly long time to open and his mind wandered back to a time, a mere week ago, when he would have been able to easily open such a door, whether closed or even locked.

Izaya hated being immobilized.

Hated it.

Hated feeling weak.

Vulnerable.

Scared.

Shoving all thoughts of weakness aside, he concentrated on the task at hand. From the kitchen, he could hear the sounds of dishes clattering and something making delicious sizzling noises. Shinra's voice drifted through the apartment, layered with affection.

"Oh Celty! That smells wonderful! I'm the luckiest man on earth to have such a beautiful and skilled goddess to love!" A pause indicated Celty probably typing out a response.

"Ah Celty! My heart is going to explode with joy!" Clearly, the dullahan was finally starting to return Shinra's one-sided feelings.

Izaya's mind flashed to all the humans who hated him. _What's it like to have your unrequited love finally acknowledged and returned?_ The sudden thought surprised him, as did the wistful longing that accompanied it.

Izaya scowled, deciding these strange thoughts were the result of lingering drugs left in his system. _This is why I hate narcotics._ He continued his slow walk down the hall, flipping the bathroom light on and closing the door with his hip. He pointedly avoided the mirror, and shuffled over to the toilet.

As much as Izaya loathed the lack of privacy the hospital gown provided, he was relieved not to have to fumble with a zipper at the very least. After finishing, he moved back to the sink and hesitated the barest of moments before looking up.

The face looking back had sunken eyes and dark circles. The right side of his face was still swollen, though now it was mostly in shades of yellow and green, the darker blues and blacks only showing on his cheekbone and eyebrow. And was that…

Izaya tilted his head, frowning. _That bastard!_ His eyes widened at the shaved patch of hair above his right ear, a neat row of stitches showing through the clear bandage.

It was stupid.

It was only hair.

It would grow back.

It was nothing.

And despite all that, Izaya felt the burn forming behind his eyes again. The lack of control over something as trivial as his hair reminded him, once again, just how vulnerable he truly was. _Damn it…_

Izaya was still trying to gain some control over his frustration when a knock came at the door.

"Izaya?" Shinra's voice was cheerful on the surface, but Izaya heard the undertone of concern. "You really shouldn't be moving around too much. I know you hate staying still, but if you shift your ribs out of place, it's just going to take longer for everything to heal."

He didn't answer, trying to compose himself enough to face his observant friend.

"Izaya?" The concern was poking through a little more now as Shinra knocked again, "Celty made a delicious beef sukiyaki, you should eat something if you want to regain your strength."

 _Actually, that sounds pretty good…_ He was suddenly aware of the empty void of his stomach, reawakened with the mention of food.

"Izaya? I'm coming in now," Shinra warned, opening the door Izaya hadn't bothered to lock.

"Pervert," Izaya smirked, schooling his face into a casual expression. Shinra grinned, the bathroom light catching his glasses and lending to his crazed look.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked, and Izaya could tell that despite the casual inquiry, Shinra was studying him carefully.

"Fine," Izaya replied, shrugging his left arm and wincing as it pulled on his broken collarbone. "Hungry." He added truthfully.

"Well, my darling Celty made lots of food if you want to join us for supper," Shinra continued as if they were having a conversation on the phone, not standing awkwardly close in the doctor's tiny bathroom.

"I'll clear my schedule," Izaya replied sarcastically.

"Excellent!" Shinra said enthusiastically, then suddenly hesitant, added "Do you… do you need any help with-"

"I'm fine," Izaya interrupted, embarrassed frustration showing, despite his best efforts. He knew Shinra could see right through him. The doctor was one of the few people that he couldn't fool.

"Alright then!" Shinra nodded, grin returning, "I'll leave you to it." He exited the bathroom, turning back to the kitchen where the delicious smells of cooking beef wafted from. Izaya glanced once more at the face in the mirror before following the doctor, albeit at a much slower pace.

He entered the kitchen in time to see Celty in a pink apron, placing a set of chopsticks in front of Shinra and pouring him a glass of water.

"You've taken to the domestic human life rather quickly," he commented, slowly lowering himself into a chair. Celty turned to him, then to Shinra. They shared a brief, knowing look that made Izaya uncomfortable as he couldn't completely decipher it. Celty poured him a glass as well, and sat next to Shinra who was already digging enthusiastically into the hotpot.

Izaya looked down at the chopsticks in front of him and abruptly realized he would never be able to hold them. Shinra seemed to have realized the same thing, stopping with a bite halfway to his mouth.

"Ah… right," Shinra said, "Well, I suppose if you asked nicely I could be persuaded to feed you, but don't think I'm going to be making a habit of it." Izaya knew Shinra was trying to make light of the situation, but it bothered him just how transparent he must be for Shinra to console him.

"Hm," Izaya forced a grin, "I guess I'll allow you the honor this time."

Shinra grinned back.

-DRRR-

Shizuo took a long drag of his cigarette, releasing the smoke in a thin stream through pursed lips.

It wasn't as therapeutic as it used to be.

He had been distracted lately. He had noticed. Tom had noticed. Hell, even one of the punks they were collecting from had commented on it.

He knew what it was.

It was the same cause as all of his problems, of course. Even The Calm couldn't help him with this. In fact, whenever he entered The Calm, his first thoughts were usually along the lines of:

 _ **I made a mistake. I should have killed him. He needs to die.**_

To be honest, it was annoying. He had decided not to kill Izaya, right? It didn't mean he had to like the bastard, but this was supposed to be a triumph over his violent impulses. So why did he still want to kill Izaya?

 _I'll have to ask Ono-sensei about it during my session next week._ _Maybe he knows._

"Shizuo?" Tom called, interrupting Shizuo's thoughts, "let's finish off the Kuroda residence and then we'll call it a day. This weather is brutal…"

"Yeah…" Shizuo agreed, absently. Actually, it was especially cold today, the wind nearly taking his breath away.

"Did you hear it's supposed to actually snow tonight?" Tom was saying, breathing into his cupped hands as they started walking.

"Really?"

"Yeah, though it's not as bad as the storms in Kyoto or the recent earthquakes in Hokkaido. It's just been a string of bad luck with the weather lately…" Tom was rambling now and Shizuo tuned him out, content to his own thoughts for now.

It had been nearly a week since… the incident and Shizuo still wasn't sure how he felt. He still hated Izaya, he was pretty sure about that, but the mindless rage disappeared when he remembered gripping Izaya's head in his hands, or how still he had been on the cot in Shinra's apartment, or…

"Shizuo?" Tom's tone of voice indicated this wasn't the first time he had tried to get the blond's attention.

"Huh?"

"You seem really out of sorts lately," Tom commented, glancing at Shizuo curiously, "is everything alright?" Shizuo sighed. He had been waiting for Tom to ask and was rather surprised it had taken so long. He knew the other man could read him like an open book. Well, as far as that went, everyone could read him pretty well. Shizuo didn't see the point in hiding his feelings.

"It's Izaya," Shizuo answered bluntly. He saw Tom flinch and look around, trying to spot the smirking informant. "He's not here," Shizuo added, "He's probably still at Shinra's."

"The doctor?" Tom asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Shizuo answered, pulling out a paper envelope to dispose of the last of his smoke. Tom was quiet for a while and Shizuo knew he was processing all the implications of their short conversation.

"You didn't kill him, then," His senpai said at last.

"Yeah," Shizuo agreed again.

"But you could have."

"Yeah."

"Ah." And with those simple words, Shizuo saw understanding break over Tom's face. They walked in silence for a while, hunching their shoulders against the cold wind. Finally Tom spoke again.

"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing." Shizuo sighed.

"I wish I was as convinced as you are, Tom-san."

 **A/N: So, we've come to that point. I've been pushing the T rating as it is, and there's more planned for the future. This leaves me with the options of either toning down the story or bumping up the rating.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I've decided to go with the M rating. Enjoy!**

The weather had held true on its promise of snow. The soft flakes drifted down lazily, melting as they touched the ground. Shizuo held his umbrella grumpily, the red canvas keeping most of the flakes off, but not the ones that caught the occasional breeze. He brushed them out of his already damp hair and wished he had a free hand to light up a cigarette.

"I think we'll call it a day after the next one," Tom told him, hunching his shoulders further against the chill. While Shizuo still wore only his bartender clothes, the other man was dressed in a thick coat, mittens, scarf, and hat which he had pulled snuggly over his ears. Tom was not a fan of cold weather.

"Sure," Shizuo grunted, more irritated than cold. The two men walked in companionable silence for a while, trudging through the slush that was collecting on the sidewalk. It was a quiet day.

The kind of day that was almost too peaceful to be real.

The kind of day that would normally set Shizuo's nerves on edge.

Celty had texted him a few days ago that the louse had woken up. He had been out for nearly five days and Shizuo had to admit part of him was fine with the thought of Izaya never waking up. His life would be so much simpler if he didn't have to ever see Izaya again.

He had to remind himself it was very unlikely for Izaya to show up now. Hell, the last time he'd seen the informant was nearly a week ago, pale and still in Shinra's exam room…

Shizuo clenched his fist, feeling his fingernails create little crescent marks in his palm.

He had felt guilty for his loss of control before, but never with regard to Izaya. That bastard deserved everything he got.

Definitely.

Besides, he had no reason to feel guilty.

He had repaid his debt. Even…

"…is two and a half million yen," Tom was saying, "so this one is pretty big. These guys have a history of being pretty violent so be careful."

"Right," Shizuo nodded, adjusting his sunglasses and following his boss up the metal stairs to the apartment building. Tom glanced at him to make sure he was ready before rapping firmly on the door.

"Who is it?" A voice on the other side snapped at the two men. "You better have the stuff or I swear I'm going to…" The man that belonged to the voice trailed off as he opened the door and took in the two men in front of him.

"Aw shit," another voice came from behind, "it's those collector assholes again."

"You're late on your payment," Tom began in a monotone voice, already sensing how this conversation was going to play out.

"Yeah, I don't think so," the one in front said with a sneer. He was a large man with a shaved head and a tattoo of a snake running down the side of his bulging neck. Shizuo instantly disliked him. "See, we figured you guys could just write this one off as a sort of… insurance if you get my drift. You know, like a preventative measure." Tom sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Look, you knew the terms when you took out the loan-"

"I don't think you're getting this," the man's sneer grew sinister and he suddenly produced a wicked-looking hunting knife, "there isn't a loan anymore, because you aren't getting any money from us." The shaved man took a step forward and before Shizuo even had time to fully comprehend what was happening he was in The Calm. The world slowed down and with casual grace, he pulled Tom out of danger's path and grabbed the thick forearm holding the blade.

 _ **He wanted to inflict pain on others. He deserves to feel pain himself.**_

Shizuo easily flipped the man head over heels and sent him crashing through the apartment door. He groaned, but stayed on the floor.

"What the hell?!" Shizuo heard the distinctive click of the safety on a gun being flicked off and zeroed in on the man holding the gun in a shaking grip. Before he could properly aim, Shizuo grabbed him by the hands and spun him around the room, ripping the gun from his hands and sending the unfortunate thug through a kitchen cabinet head first.

Shizuo looked down at the gun that was still in his hands.

 _ **He wants to kill people. He deserves to be killed himself.**_

Shizuo flipped the gun around, the grip natural and smooth in his palm. Before he could lift it however, Tom was there, placing his hand on top of Shizuo's. He was saying something, but Shizuo couldn't seem to understand.

It didn't seem to matter.

He shrugged the other man off and stepped forward confidently.

 _Wait…_

He moved towards the man who was painfully extricating himself from the remnants of the kitchen cabinets.

 _No. This isn't…_

He lifted the gun.

 _What am I…?_

Shizuo suddenly felt an irritating pressure on his side. The pressure grew to a sharp pinch and he looked down in annoyance to find the first man right next to him, looking up at Shizuo's face with a mixture of awe and fear. The bodyguard followed the man's gaze as it turned to Shizuo's torso where the hunting knife was buried up to the hilt.

Shizuo looked at the protruding blade, the white of his shirt already turning a brilliant crimson color.

Another shirt ruined.

His gaze moved slowly upwards to the tattooed man who was slowly backing away, eyes wide

"You ruined my shirt," Shizuo said slowly. "My brother bought me this shirt."

"Ah…"

"You stabbed me, didn't you?" Shizuo followed the rapidly retreating man, backing him against the wall, " You tried to kill me, right?! Then you can't complain, no matter what I do to you!" As he yelled out the last sentence, Shizuo brought his head down sharply against the forehead of the man who had stabbed him and a loud crack resounded through the apartment. The man crumpled to the ground, out cold before he even landed.

Shizuo sighed in frustration, about to run a hand through his blond hair that had fallen in his eyes when he noticed the gun in his hand. His brow furrowed in disgust and he tossed the weapon next to the unconscious man.

"H-hey Shizuo, are you okay?" Tom asked worriedly, suddenly beside him trying to get a look at his side.

"Eh?" Shizuo frowned, then remembered the pinching feeling in his chest. "Ah, yeah. Hardly hurts."

"Ah… Maybe you should sit down? I'll call an ambulance…"

"What? No way, I'm fine. Plus I can't afford that shit. I'll just get Shinra to patch it up…" Shizuo trailed off with a sudden scowl.

"Look, there's no way I'm letting you walk around with a knife sticking out of you! You could have a punctured lung or… or something!" Tom was waving his hands in an agitated motion by this point, which Shizuo knew meant he was really worked up about this. Actually, it _was_ getting a little difficult to breathe. Maybe Tom was right about the lung thing. The hospital was absolutely out of the question though. If he wanted to be able to afford food and a roof over his head, there was no way he could pay for the medical bills.

That left two options.

He could go to Shinra's and let the underground doctor patch him up, risking the possibility of seeing that smirking bastard Izaya, or he could bleed to death.

Honestly, the second option was almost more appealing.

With a frustrated growl, Shizuo made his way outside the apartment, Tom following close behind.

"Shizuo! Where are you going?"

"Shinra's place is only a few blocks from here," the blond replied, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He really needed all the calming effects nicotine could provide right now. "I guess I'll go get him to take care of this."

"Wait! You shouldn't be walking around like that!" His boss protested. "Also, is it really a good idea to be smoking now?" Shizuo hesitated with his lighter halfway to the smoke clenched between his teeth. Tom was probably right about that, but…

"Eh, it'll be worse if I don't have something," he muttered, lighting the cigarette. "Anyway, you gotta finish the job, right? I'll call you to let you know I'm okay." He offered Tom a wave from behind on his way down the stairs, ignoring the exasperated sigh his senpai made.

His mind was elsewhere.

 _I didn't even try that time… The Calm just… happened…_ A week ago he would have been thrilled to know it was so easy to control his anger. But now…

 _What's happening to me…_

-DRRR-

 _His chest hurt._

 _It hurt so much._

 _It felt like someone was sitting on him, slowly forcing the air out of his lungs. Izaya tried to inhale, but his lungs refused to cooperate and his vision swam with colors, tunneling. He gasped, trying desperately to breathe, to move, to do anything. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, counting down how long until he fell unconscious… suffocated… died._

" _Izaya."_

 _The voice was new. Deep and commanding, it demanded his attention even though he knew what he would see. Izaya opened his eyes, unaware that he'd closed them._

 _A shadowed figure stood before him, his face impossible to discern from the blinding light that emanated from behind his head and shoulders. Dispassionate eyes bored into him and Izaya felt his heart stutter in fear for a moment before resuming an even more frantic pace._

Why…?

 _Why did this figure evoke such a powerful terror in him?_

 _He could feel the cold sweat breaking out along the back of his neck, his stomach dropping somewhere near his feet and the irrational desire to whimper._

" _Time's up."_

Izaya choked on the deep breath he was finally able to pull into his lungs and coughed violently.

"After all the work I put in patching your lungs back up, you better not cough them out," a too-cheerful voice called out to him. Izaya was too busy fighting the pull of pain-induced unconsciousness to form a reply. Finally finishing his coughing fit, he leaned back against the pillow with a groan, looking over to the doctor with bleary eyes.

"Bad dream?" Shinra asked, smiling brightly, and placing the cup of water and bowl of udon he had been carrying on the bedside table. Izaya watched the doctor for a moment before replying.

"You know," Izaya began, "between barging in on me in the bathroom and watching me sleep, I'm starting to get a little bit of a stalker vibe." He smirked and added "What would Celty say I wonder?"

"Hm, I guess all I can do is throw myself at her feet and beg her forgiveness," Shinra grinned, looking as though he actually enjoyed the thought. Izaya rolled his eyes and Shinra continued, "I'll assure her she's the only one for me! I'll tell her it was a mistake! I'll say 'Don't worry my lovely Celty, Izaya means nothing to me next to you!'"

"Ouch," Izaya smirked, finally relaxing with the normal banter.

"It's not just you, of course," Shinra assured him, busying himself with some medical supplies on the back counter, "Everyone means nothing next to Celty."

"Ah Shinra," Izaya sighed, "we could have so much in common if you loved humans half as much as you love your monsters."

"Mm, you really shouldn't call Celty a monster," Shinra's voice was still playful, but there was a hard edge to it and for once, Izaya didn't feel like pushing him. "You do have good timing though! I was just about to wake you. I have to change your bandages." Izaya mentally grimaced, but kept his grin in place.

"And now you want to undress me. Should I be worried?"

"Very. This is probably going to hurt." Izaya's grin faltered a bit at the nonchalance in the doctor's voice, but by the time Shinra turned around it was firmly back in place. Shinra brought his tray of supplies over to Izaya's bedside, placing it next to the bowl of cooling udon.

"First, I need you to sit up." Izaya didn't bother hiding his grimace at the request, but pushed away Shinra's offered arm, opting to lever himself up on his own. With professional efficiency, Shinra unwound the bandages around Izaya's torso, disposing of them when he finally reached the end.

Izaya hadn't actually seen the damage done to his ribs yet and swallowed his surprise when he finally saw his skin. The bruise on his face was nothing compared to this. The entire right side of his body from armpit to hip was mottled with colors he didn't even know skin could turn. A large square of gauze covered a large portion of his upper chest, taped down with medical tape. Izaya fought down a brief surge of dizziness at the realization that this battered body was _his._

"You okay?" Of course Shinra would notice.

"You're the doctor," Izaya told him trying to keep his voice offhanded, "you tell me."

"Well you won't be in a second," Shinra told him with a dark grin, "this is going to hurt." He reached for the tape securing the gauze, ripping it off in one sharp motion. Izaya gasped, squinting his eyes and breathing hard through his nose.

"You could warn me!" He snapped, glaring at Shinra. The doctor smiled widely, eyes closing with glee. Izaya glanced at the spot where the gauze had been, now framed by a square of raw pink skin. His eyes widened at the dozens upon dozens of stitches.

 _That's going to scar…_ He thought faintly, feeling a little nauseous.

"I needed to internally stabilize your ribs," Shinra was saying, his wide smile now faded to a sad, almost wistful one, "It took nearly thirteen hours working alone."

Izaya had the uncomfortable feeling he should be really grateful. It wasn't something he was used to. He was used to manipulating humans into doing what he wanted. Threatening. Blackmailing. Paying for services rendered. The idea that someone would do something for him simply because they wanted to was… unthinkable.

Then again, that was Shinra. The man was completely predictable in all other aspects of his life.

His job.

His love life.

But when it came to Izaya… honestly, Izaya had no idea what the doctor would do. He had taken a knife meant for Izaya back in high school. Who did that? And now, Izaya was starting to understand just a small part of how much time and effort Shinra had put into saving his life.

More than Izaya could repay, he was pretty sure of that and it made him uncomfortable.

 _I think… I think I should thank him…_

"Ah.. Shinra…?"

"Hmm," Shinra muttered, poking harder than Izaya thought was strictly necessary at his ribs.

 _How am I supposed to do this?_ Gratefulness didn't come easily or naturally to him.

"Those are broken, you know," he said, smiling through gritted teeth.

"Mm," replied the doctor, absorbed in his work.

 _Ah forget it…_

Finally appeased, Shinra cleaned and re-bandaged the stitches. He continued prodding at Izaya's arms, his shoulder and his head, a frown forming and deepening with each examination.

"Huh…" Shinra muttered to himself.

"What?" Izaya asked, finally unable to take it any longer, "What's wrong?"

"Well, strictly speaking, nothing is _wrong…_ " Shinra said hesitantly, "it's just… you seem to be healing oddly… no, _unnaturally_ fast. Not as fast as Celty, but at least as quickly as Shizuo…"

"Comparing me to monsters?" Izaya laughed. Shinra prodded his collarbone especially forcefully, making Izaya clench his teeth and hiss.

"Hm? Sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said, Izaya-kun," Shinra smiled, eyes hidden by the glare of his glasses.

"Ah, nothing important," Izaya replied, matching Shinra's smile.

"Well," Shinra concluded, picking up his instrument tray and moving back to the counter of the room, "I'm not sure why, but at this rate, you should be able to move around in another week or so."

"And this?" Izaya held up his splinted left arm. The sooner he could actually hold something, the happier he would be.

"You're lucky it was a very clean break to start with," Shinra told him.

"I'll be sure to thank Shizu-chan for that next time I see him," Izaya replied flatly.

"If it continues to heal this quickly I would say two weeks, maybe three more."

"The rest?" Izaya tried for casual, but knew Shinra could hear the almost desperate tone in his voice.

"Hard to say," the doctor replied slowly, "the fracture on your right arm was much more complex. Clavicle fractures tend to heal more slowly and your ribs… well… as long as there aren't any complications, you should be feeling pretty good within the next four to six months."

 _Months._

 _Four to six… months._

"I know it's not what you want to hear," Shinra sighed, "but really, it could have been a lot worse. "I had almost given up, but Shizuo… ah… nevermind." The doctor had Izaya's full attention now.

"Hm? What were you saying?"

"Ah, nothing," Shinra shrugged and headed for the door, "you should eat your udon before it gets cold."

Izaya glared at the retreating back of the doctor and then to his bowl of food on the nightstand. His gaze moved to the chopsticks and the spoon Shinra had provided.

"We meet again, table utensils."

-DRRR-

Shimono Hideki lounged next to the window, watching the soft flakes drift on the occasional puff of wind. He heard the telltale steps of his friend approaching him from behind. It was the sound Ren made when he was trying to be quiet.

"When was the last time it snowed in Ikebukuro, huh?" Ren announced loudly with a grin. Hideki knew he was hoping to startle him, so he ignored the man, continuing to gaze out the window.

"Four years," a soft voice answered Ren's mostly rhetoric question. Hideki glanced over to the third occupant of the room, Miyano Michiko, a petite, soft-spoken woman with dark hair and tidy glasses.

"That's our Michiko," Ren chuckled, "you probably know the last five years off the top of your head."

"2011, 2009, 2008, 2004 and 1998," she answered, not lifting her eyes from the soft glow of her laptop light. Ren gave a low whistle and even Hideki raised an eyebrow.

The door to the spacious office burst open and a short plump balding man strode through. He shook the snow from the umbrella he carried and set it aside, removing his coat, scarves and mittens.

"Miserable weather," he muttered, an odd accent to his voice.

"Normal for our situation," Michiko stated, not meeting his eyes.

"Mm, yes dear, I suppose," the man nodded, scanning the room, "good, good, everyone is here."

"Well Adams?" Ren asked, grin splitting his friendly features, "are you convinced?" The round man-Adams- frowned at Ren.

"I would appreciate if you would keep to the names chosen for this operation."

"Sure," Ren shrugged, "you're the boss, Kaito." Adams/Kaito flinched at the familiar use of his first name but didn't comment.

"Yes well…" Kaito smoothed his suit, set down his briefcase and settled into a recliner before addressing the group, "I have looked into this Heiwajima Shizuo and have concluded that you are correct." The last word was directed at Ren and seemed to physically pain Kaito to say.

"Ah, I can't take all the credit," Ren grinned, waving his hand dismissively, "Michiko did most of the work, actually. She's been watching him for years now."

"Ah!" Kaito's face broke into a pleasant smile as he turned to the quiet woman who had yet to look up from her computer screen, "Well, your hard work is very much appreciated Miyano-san. I hope Pithos can continue to count on you in the future when this is over."

Michiko gave the barest of nods, still not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Well, now that this matter with Heiwajima is settled, we can report in," Kaito nodded, "hopefully, Pandora will be located soon."

"Couldn't we just get Shizuo to help us?" Ren asked curiously, stretching out on the chocolate suede couch across from Kaito.

"We'll have to inform him soon," Kaito agreed, "but I'd like to hold off a little longer. Heiwajima is especially… violent."

"Normal," Michiko interrupted again, her quiet voice carrying surprisingly well.

"I've seen him, dear," Kaito answered in what Hideki thought was a rather condescending tone, "I'm sure the others were never this bad." Michiko didn't answer, though Hideki got the distinct impression she disagreed.

"So what's our next move?" Ren asked, yawning.

"For now, the three of you don't need to do anything," Kaito answered, eyeing Ren in particular, "I will continue to keep an eye on Heiwajima." Ren let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm telling you, Kaito, me and Michiko have talked it over and we think the best way to find Pandora is if Azrael-"

Ren was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. He glanced over at Hideki who calmly pulled the cell from his pocket, checking the unfamiliar number, then answering.

"Hello."

"Ah… hello…. Is this… is this Shimono Hideki…?" A nervous sounding voice asked from the other side of the speaker, as if saying his name was a curse.

"Yes. Tell me who you are and how you have this number." Hideki spoke smoothly, ignoring the glaring look Kaito sent him and the shit-eating grin Ren was wearing.

"Ah… Well, I work for a company called Yodigiri Antiquities… you… you've worked for them before, right?"

"Yes."

"Uh… well, I have a job request for you. One of a more personal nature."

"How many."

"What?"

"How many people?" Hideki intoned flatly.

"Uh… just one."

"Dangerous?" He made sure to keep the hope out of his voice.

"Um… yes…"

"The pay?"

"Ten million?"

"I will meet you at the South exit of the Yodogiri warehouse tomorrow at 18:00. Bring the money and all the contact information you have."

"Ah! But-" Hideki snapped the phone shut, cutting off the nervous protest.

"New job?" Ren grinned. Hideki was pretty sure he just enjoyed the way Kaito was silently fuming. Then again, his friend was odd.

"Yes," Hideki agreed, "I'm afraid I have to go prepare for work. If you'll excuse me, Miyano-san, Ren," Hideki bowed to the former, nodded to the second and finally bowed to the round man fuming in the recliner. "Ono-sensei."

 **A/N: According to my outline this chapter was supposed to be longer yet, but I've been literally up all night writing and I have to be at work in an hour and what have I done I'm an idiot**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: That Ketsu finale… I don't know what I'm going to look forward to now… DX**

 **Taro Tanaka:** Has anyone seen the new Yuhei movie that came out last week?

 **Saika:** Not yet. I'm going to see it with a friend on the weekend.

 **Kyo:** …five…

 **San:** We've watched it five times! It's the best movie ever!

 **Bakyura:** You say that about every Yuhei movie

 **Kyo:** All…best

 **San:** Exactly! They're all the best movies! XD

 **Setton:** I'm watching this American show right now, maybe after that

 **Taro Tanaka:** Has anyone talked to Kanra recently? I haven't seen him online for a while…

 **Bakyura:** With any luck, that bastard died in a hole somewhere

 **Kyo:** Cruel…

 **Saika:** That is mean Bakyura-san

 **Bakyura:** Not if you knew this guy like I do

 _ **Private Message**_

 _ **Taro Tanaka:**_ _Celty, there's a lot of rumors going around right now. Like he pissed off the yakuza, or Shizuo-san caught him. There's even a rumor that says they saw him with you on your bike…_

 _ **Setton:**_ _…_

 _ **Taro Tanaka:**_ _I'm kind of worried. He won't answer his phone either. This seems like the kind of rumors he might actually start but I don't know why…_

 _ **Setton:**_ _Actually, this time it's not._

 _ **Taro Tanaka:**_ _Then…?_

 _ **Setton:**_ _Ah… Well Shizuo actually injured him pretty badly…_

 _ **Taro Tanaka:**_ _Really? How badly?_

 _ **Setton:**_ _Well, I don't think he'll be running around Ikebukuro for some time. Even once he heals, I have a feeling he might avoid the city. I think Shizuo really scared him-_

Izaya frowned as he scrolled through the chat logs on Celty's computer. He wasn't scared of Shizuo.

Really.

It was just…

 _A tall figure, framed in light looked down on him, eyes boring into his soul._

" _Time's up."_

Izaya ignored the cold sweat that started beading along his forehead and the way his hand shook slightly.

Mikado had been telling the truth about all the rumors too. As he perused the Dollars forums there were several threads claiming they had heard Orihara Izaya was dead. Some claimed it was Shizuo's doing, others claimed the yakuza or one of the color gangs. One poster even made an outlandish claim that the black biker was a god of death that had finally come to collect Izaya's soul. This was accompanied by a very grainy picture of what could be Celty and two other figures on her bike. It was nearly impossible to make out the identity of the other two figures, but one was tall and dressed in a white shirt-

 **Izaya! What are you doing?!** The phone was shoved in front of his face, blocking his view of the computer screen. He leaned back in the swivel chair, ignoring the pain in his ribs that slight movement caused and grinned up at the flustered dullahan.

"I'm bored," he explained, "you can't expect me to lie in that bed forever."

 **You can't just go looking through my computer without permission!** Celty tapped out the message rapidly, showing it to Izaya.

"Oh? Do you have private photos on here?" Izaya laughed.

 **Th-that's none of your business!** Shadows poured out of her neck in what Izaya assumed was a blush. He wasn't as adept at reading dullahan body language as a certain doctor.

 _Seriously? Huh, why didn't I even think to check? You're slipping, Orihara._

"Don't worry," he laughed, "I'm hardly interested." Mostly true.

 **Still! You should ask me before using my computer!** Celty leaned over and with a couple of clicks, logged off her account. She double-clicked the Guest account and tapped out a message.

 **Seriously, just ask, okay?**

"Ah Celty, you're ruining all the fun I have," Izaya sighed.

 **Spying on people and going through their stuff is just creepy.**

"But it is interesting," Izaya smiled, eyes gleaming.

 **Just… stay out of my stuff.** Celty finally answered, striding out of the computer room. Izaya watched her leave, eyes narrowed.

"But where's the fun in that?" he murmured, logging out of the Guest account and typing in Celty's password with a flourish. He hovered over the pictures folder for a moment before deciding against it.

 _On second thought, I don't really want to know what I'll find._

-DRRR-

Hideki stretched, his muscles protesting the movement after the hours of staying in the same position. He had been staking out the warehouse exit for the last twelve hours, making sure there was nothing suspicious going on.

Well, nothing more suspicious than the usual black market business.

The caller on the phone had sounded especially nervous and Hideki had no plans to walk into a trap. Despite his suspicions though, there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. He had counted seven trucks unload or pick up various goods from the warehouse and eighteen personal couriers. No one else seemed to be scoping the place out or setting up an ambush of any kind.

17:46.

Fifteen minutes until the planned meeting. About half an hour ago, he'd seen someone lock up and turn off the lights, leaving the parking lot only dimly lit by the nearby streetlamps. He watched through his binoculars as two men emerged cautiously from the back door. One had wild auburn hair and square-framed glasses, and the other, the more nervous of the two, looked like a generic businessman in a clean navy suit and combed black hair.

He also carried a briefcase.

17:54

Hideki double-checked to make sure his weapons were secure and concealed before fastening an oni mask to the front of his face. It limited his vision, but it was the one indulgence he let himself have. After all, he had a reputation to maintain. Moving smoothly and silently, he exited the building adjacent the warehouse where he'd set up his surveillance and crossed the parking lot to where the two men waited anxiously. He was only ten meters away when the businessman spotted him.

"Ah!" The man paled and took a step back. His partner glanced at him, then turned to Hideki, annoyance giving way to surprise.

"Ah… hello, you… you're Shimono Hideki, right?" The man with the glasses asked, mustering enough courage to smile. Hideki just nodded, enjoying the way the two man flinched at even that movement. A reputation could be a powerful thing indeed.

"Jirou, the money," the first man growled, turning to the sweating businessman.

"R-right," the man called Jirou fumbled with the lock on the briefcase for a moment before managing to open it. Hideki scanned the contents, running a gloved hand over the bills. The money was actually immaterial to him, but it really wouldn't do to have people know that, so he kept up the act. He lifted a couple of bundles, making sure the case wasn't padded with something else at the bottom. Hideki mentally calculated the bundles and nodded approvingly when the figure matched up with the one mentioned yesterday.

"The target?" He asked, turning again to the auburn haired man that seemed to be in charge.

"Ah, right," the man handed him a folder, "This was all the information we could get on him. He… we haven't heard from him in a while so I don't know where to currently find him."

Hideki opened the folder, scanning the name and attached picture inside. He'd heard of this man before. _Hmm. An information broker, right?_

"So, uh, do we have a deal?" The bespectacled man asked, smiling nervously.

"We have a deal. He will be dead within the week." Hideki answered simply. Both men seemed to relax a little at those words. The businessman, Jirou, extended the briefcase to him and Hideki took it, smoothly, turning to leave.

"Is it true?" The first man called to him, making him hesitate. "Is it true no one has ever actually seen your face before?"

"Eiji!" Jirou hissed, fearfully. Hideki turned slowly, a grin pulling at his lips.

"Would you like to see?" He lifted his free hand towards the mask. Both men paled.

"N-no that's alright," Eiji replied with a nervous laugh, "I'll just trust the stories are true." Hideki was about to ask which stories, but shrugged instead. It didn't really matter whether it was the story of him truly being a demon, a god of death, horribly disfigured… whatever the story they all ended the same.

No one knew what he looked like.

Because anyone who saw his face was as good as dead.

Or so the stories claimed.

-DRRR-

"Is everything okay, Celty?" Shinra asked, joining her for their Saturday tradition of cooking supper together. _Damn him and his astute observations._ Celty thought to herself, setting the grocery bags on the table.

 **Ah, I'm fine. It's just Izaya getting on my nerves.**

"Ah," Shinra chuckled, "that would be what he's best at." Celty collapsed into a chair in frustration.

 **Why do you even put up with him?**

"Well, he doesn't really have a lot of people he's close to. Actually, probably no one." Shinra shrugged, opening the grocery bags and looking through them. "Oh good! I forgot to put milk on the list! I'm glad you remembered, Celty!"

 **I don't feel sorry for him. It's his fault, you know.**

"The milk? Oh- his lack of friends. Well, he doesn't really have a choice, I suppose." Shinra balanced the milk and eggs in one hand, opening the fridge door with the other.

 **What do you mean?** Celty leaned forward in her chair, curiously.

"Mm," Shinra paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, "imagine you were scared of being alone, but you were equally scared of the certainty of getting hurt if you let people get too close. What would you do?" The dullahan considered the question, mentally frowning.

 **Keep people close… but not too close, I guess…**

"Izaya needs to love someone to fill the hole in his life. Just like me. Loving you is enough to keep me going, even if you didn't love me back, just knowing that I get to live another day seeing you and loving you is enough to get me out of bed in the morning. He's the same." Shinra grinned as smoky shadows poured from her neck in a blush and Celty found herself playing with her hands at Shinra's words.

 **Shinra…**

The doctor grinned wider, putting away the last of the groceries. He pulled out a pot from one of the cupboards and started filling it with water.

"In his case though, he claims to love all humans," Shinra continued, "Because if he loves everyone, no one is special. No one can get close." Celty considered that as she stood up washing her hands and drying them carefully before picking up her phone again.

 **That's… almost sad.**

"Oh? I thought you didn't feel sorry for him?" Shinra laughed.

 **I don't! He's still an ass, but…**

"Mm," Shinra agreed, "I'm friends with him because I understand." They worked in silence for a while, Shinra boiling the pasta while Celty cut up the vegetables. She paused suddenly, picking up her phone again.

 **If he loves everyone, then why does he hate Shizuo so much? Does he really just not think he's human?**

"Aha!" Shinra grinned almost crazily, "I was wondering if you would realize it!"

 **?**

"It's a simple answer, really, but if I don't explain it, you wouldn't believe me," the doctor told her, stirring the pasta before nodding approvingly at it. "To Izaya, all humans are liars. People lie, keep secrets, hide the truth; he probably doesn't realize it but in Izaya's mind, that's what makes humans human."

 **So he doesn't trust anyone…** Celty tapped out thoughtfully.

"It's the reason he won't let anyone close," Shinra agreed, "he's built his entire way of life on that assumption. His job is uncovering people's lies and telling the inconvenient truth. His truth has power over humans' lies."

 **Shizuo doesn't lie!** Celty typed out excitedly, nearly dropping the knife she was holding.

"Exactly!" Shinra grinned, "Shizuo doesn't lie to others, or even to himself. He's honest and open, meaning Izaya has no power over him. He hates that. But more importantly, if humans lie and Shizuo doesn't lie…"

 **He thinks Shizuo is too good to be human?**

Shinra laughed, nearly letting the pasta boil over before hurriedly lowering the heat on the element.

"I guess you could say that," he agreed, "but more importantly, if Shizuo doesn't fall under the category of 'human', he can't be kept at arms' length like everyone else. Worse- he doesn't lie, so he's trustworthy." Celty stared in astonishment as the realization hit her.

 **Izaya pushes Shizuo away because he's afraid he might end up trusting him…**

Shinra beamed, removing the pasta from the stovetop and straining it carefully into the sink.

"I told you that you wouldn't believe me," the doctor smiled. Celty shook her 'head' back and forth, knowing Shinra could tell by the movements of her neck and shoulders.

 **I just can't believe it… Izaya's not scared of Shizuo's strength, but his honesty? Even now?**

"Ah," Shinra adjusted his glasses, setting the steaming pot of pasta on a potholder, "it's hard to say. Izaya definitely seems a little shaken, but he might bounce back once he's a little more mobile." Celty tapped her finger against the table thoughtfully before replying.

 **It still doesn't give him the right to go through all the stuff on my computer… Well, maybe I'll drive over to his house and pick up his laptop. At least he'll have something to do that isn't snooping through all our stuff.**

"That's a good idea," Shinra nodded, "you should grab him some clothes too. He's too skinny to fit any of my clothes properly." Celty nodded, reaching for her yellow helmet.

 **Okay, I'll be back soon.**

"Drive carefully, my sweet!" Shinra called after her. Celty shook her helmeted head at the comment. She moved to close the door behind her and hesitated. Was it her imagination or did she see a shape slinking off down the hallway behind the kitchen? _Ah, it was probably nothing._

-DRRR-

Shizuo heard the distinctive whinny of Celty's bike speeding off in the opposite direction as he approached Shinra's apartment complex. He glanced at his phone. _8:34. Huh, I wonder where she's off to at this hour. Ah well._ In truth, he had been hoping Celty could act as an intermediary if that bastard, Izaya was still staying at the doctor's place, but it looked like he wouldn't be that lucky.

Grumbling to himself, Shizuo let himself in to the building, hitting the 10 on the array of elevator buttons.

He tried not to think of the last time he was in this elevator.

His chest was starting to feel a little tight and it was very tempting to pull the protruding blade from the home it had made for itself between his ribs. He debated having another smoke before deciding against it. Shinra would just make him put it out right away anyways.

Finally arriving on the floor, he knocked heavily on the doctor's door.

"Coming!" His friend called from the other side, sliding the chain and opening the door.

"Ah! Shizuo, what are you doing- is that a knife?!" Shinra inspected the wound, pulling the ex-bartender inside and to the kitchen. Shizuo could smell something cooking and heard the water boiling.

"Sorry to interrupt your meal," Shizuo muttered, sitting in the chair Shinra directed him towards.

"It's fine," Shinra answered, waving a hand, "you should be apologizing for always managing to get hurt. Seriously though, you shouldn't be walking around with an injury like this!" Shizuo shrugged, leaning back to let the doctor get a better look at the wound.

"I have to get my supplies, wait here," Shinra instructed.

"Sure," Shizuo grunted. _I wonder if that bastard is still here? I haven't seen him, but…_ It was hard to smell him either over the scent of cooking food. Shizuo's stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten supper yet either.

"Alright, hold still," Shinra advised, returning with his medical supplies. Shizuo did as instructed, grunting when the doctor pricked him with a needle. As the surrounding skin started going numb, he toyed with the idea of asking Shinra about Izaya, but mentally argued he didn't really care. Honestly, as long as he never saw the informant again, he could live happily.

 _ **No, he needs to die.**_

That was strange. Shizuo's brow furrowed. It was almost like-

"Annnnd there!" Shinra tugged out the blade, quickly covering the wound with a large square of gauze. "Hold this for a while, I need to check on supper. Have you eaten yet?"

"Uh, no actually," Shizuo answered, embarrassed by the loud growl his stomach decided to let out at that moment. Shinra grinned.

"Well, we made spaghetti, there should be enough to go around!"

"Uh, sure," Shizuo agreed, hesitantly as Shinra moved over to the stove, stirring something delicious smelling.

"The sauce is nearly done," Shinra said, mostly to himself, "okay, let's see about getting you stitched up." Shinra moved to his side, peeling back the bloodied gauze. He shook his head in wonder. "If only everyone healed as fast as you did, Shizuo. Actually…eh…nevermind." Shizuo frowned down at the doctor but didn't bother asking. He felt the blunt pressure through the numbness as Shinra began stitching the wound.

Shizuo sighed, leaning his head back against the chair and relaxing. It had been a long week after all. He could really use a home-cooked meal.

"Shinra, where did you leave…" The familiar voice that had come from down the hall trailed off as its' speaker rounded the corner and entered the kitchen.

 _This just couldn't be a peaceful visit, could it?_ Shizuo slowly raised his head, opening his eyes and meeting the gaze of one Orihara Izaya.

He looked scrawnier than the last time Shizuo had seen him, though that could just be blamed on the oversized sweat pants and loose T-shirt that seemed to dwarf his frame. His right arm was casted and hung in a sling, his left only splinted. The bruise on the side of his face had nearly faded, but his eyes were malicious as ever.

Izaya recovered first and was already smirking when Shizuo locked eyes with him.

"Shinra! I didn't know you were a veterinarian as well! That's so kind of you, patching up animals like that!"

Shizuo growled low in his throat, rising from his chair.

"Ah! Shizuo, I'm not finished yet! Please sit back down," Shinra glanced from the blond to Izaya who stood arrogantly in the doorway, "eh, Izaya, maybe you could wait in the other room…?"

"Or perhaps Shinra is more like Dr. Frankenstein?" Izaya continued, his eyes never straying from Shizuo's, "patching together monsters-" Izaya's grin widened as he ducked under the chair that Shizuo had been sitting on moments earlier. The bodyguard growled as he strode across the room, closing distance between the two of them rapidly.

"Shizuo!" Shinra's voice was just background to him now.

 _Kill. Kill. Kill._

"And we all know how that story ends, right Shizu-chan?" Izaya taunted, unflinching as Shizuo stepped right up to him. The informant ducked under the punch aimed at his head, but stumbled, not as agile as he was used to. Shizuo caught him by the front of the too-large shirt, slamming him into the wall. Izaya winced, clearly in pain, but his smirk returned almost immediately.

"Ah, Shizuo!" Shinra called to him, trying to pull him away from Izaya, " You're going to open your stitches! Or his stitches. Look, either way I'm going to have to patch someone up again and I really don't want to do that before supper so…"

"Are you going to finish me this time?" The question was said tauntingly, but Shizuo could see the flicker in Izaya's eyes.

 _No, I said I wasn't going to do it. I refuse to let this bastard make me a murderer._ Shizuo began to loosen his grip until like a crashing wave, The Calm took over.

 _ **He needs to die.**_

Shizuo casually shook Shinra off, sending the doctor skidding into the kitchen table. He turned back to Izaya who's eyes had widened in surprise… fear maybe? He could feel himself speaking, but the words weren't important. Only one thing was important now. He tightened his grip on the shirt, lifting Izaya off the ground.

 _ **Kill him. Kill him! KILL HIM!**_

Shizuo froze. The whole world stopped for a moment as the realization hit him. He dropped Izaya who slid down the wall with a groan, and stepped back. Shizuo backed away slowly, stumbling over the chair he had previously thrown. Izaya looked up at him, confusion and… yes, definitely fear in his expression.

Shizuo turned and ran.

 _That was…_

He didn't bother with the elevator, electing to bolt down the ten flights of stairs instead. He hardly noticed the burn in his thighs, nor the sharp bite of winter air as he pushed through the double doors of the apartment complex.

 _The voice. The Calm…_

Shizuo wasn't sure how long or how far he planned to run, only that he had to get away before he did something he might regret.

Because he had suddenly realized it.

The Calm was the same voice in his head that whispered to him every time he exploded with violence.

It was the voice that had told him to pick up the refrigerator all those years ago.

It was the voice that told him to wrench a street sign right out of its home in the concrete.

It was the voice that told him to punch a guy clean across a block.

It was the voice that had told him to hate Izaya the day he'd met him.

And it.

Wasn't.

HIS.

Voice.

 **A/N: Hopefully people are still interested as this plot gets more and more convoluted…**


	7. Chapter 7

It occurred to Celty that she probably should have asked for a key. After taking the elevator to the 16th floor, ignoring the staring from the man at the front desk, she now faced the penthouse door and silently debated her next course of action.

The lock wasn't really the problem.

It was the issue of hypocrisy. After berating Izaya for invading her privacy, what kind of a person would she be to stroll through his home while he wasn't there?

 _Well, it's not like I'm planning to use anything I find to blackmail him or anything. I'm not even looking! I'm doing him a favor. Well… I'm doing Shinra a favor._ Celty reached for the door and tried the handle, testing the lock. To her surprise, the handle moved smoothly and the door opened easily. _He doesn't even lock his door?_

That seemed… odd. Not that the informant had ever been normal.

 _Pardon me…_ Celty mentally called out, pushing open the door and stepping inside. The apartment was nice. Spacious, tastefully decorated and expensive looking. It wasn't her first time here, but being alone in the enormous room made her suddenly aware of her surroundings. She moved quickly through the silent room, wondering how it's lack of occupants could somehow make it feel so cold and empty.

Celty walked behind the desk, noting two laptops and a desktop computer. Apparently the art of professional blackmailing paid well. Deciding on the laptop that was open on the desk, Celty quickly formed a knapsack of shadows and slipped the notebook inside, unplugging the power cable from a row of plugs under the desk.

A sudden noise made her straighten abruptly. It was faint, the sound of a step on carpet, perhaps, but definitely from above her. Celty scanned the loft area of the apartment carefully, her gaze wandering over the plentiful shelves of books. _I'm sure it was nothing._ She scanned the desk noting several different cell phones. Debating for a moment she scooped them all into the bag as well.

 _Shiffff!_

That sound again. Feeling the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up, Celty slowly turned around to look behind her.

Nothing. _I'm getting paranoid. Ugh, time to get what I need and get out of here._ Resolute, Celty wandered through the apartment before finding the bedroom. It held a similar feel to the rest of the house. Tidy without being minimalist. Expensive without being gaudy. A large bed with black covers and matching drapes dominated the back of the room. Two mahogany nightstands flanked the bed and a matching armoire stood next to the wall. It was a nice room, spatially pleasant and warm.

And it completely hid any personal effects.

A bit like its resident.

Shaking her helmeted head at the feeling that was almost like sympathy, Celty looked through the armoire, removing several sets of casual clothes and adding them to her shadow bag.

 _Even if Shinra is right, that doesn't excuse his shitty personality. I can't imagine being hated is truly better than being alone…_

Celty glanced to the adjoining bathroom, wondering if she should grab any toiletries as well. Shinra had once assured her that the feeling of going several days without a toothbrush was really disgusting. Not having a head did have its perks, she supposed. Deciding she didn't really know where to look anyway, the dullahan stepped back into the hall. _Maybe I'll stop by the convenience store._

She glanced around the room one last time, shouldering the shadow bag.

Her gaze fell on one of the bookshelves on the upper level and stayed there.

She wasn't sure why, but for some reason she felt drawn to it.

 _What is that…?_

Celty hesitated. She had promised herself she wouldn't snoop through the informant's things but…

 _There's something behind there…_

Celty hesitated, then moved towards the shelf.

-DRRR-

Izaya tipped his head back against the wall and let out a slow breath. He tried to ignore the thundering of his pulse and the clammy feel of his skin. He could already feel his hands trembling from the post-adrenaline high.

There was something off about Shizuo.

Well, that was kind of a given, considering his actions. Izaya was used to Shizuo's unpredictability, but even still he had been surprised when Shizuo had dropped him and fled the apartment. Seeing the blond in Shinra's apartment had surprised him, but it had been the same drill as always. He taunted, Shizuo reacted, Izaya dodged. But at the end there…

Something had changed.

For a moment Shizuo seemed to radiate danger , completely void of his usual rage. His head had blocked the kitchen light and he seemed to almost glow...

 _Time's up._

He didn't know why those simple words caused his heartbeat to pick up. Something primal in him seemed to recoil, even at the thought. _What time?_ Izaya wondered irritably, _What am I out of time for?_ The strange part was, he felt like he should know. Like it was some half-remembered dream that-

"You alright?" Shinra stood above him, looking down with a surprisingly open amount of concern. He had a small cut above his eyebrow and two thin rivers of red ran down his cheek. Izaya forced a grin.

"I told you Shizu-chan was a monster," the informant smirked. Shinra frowned, but didn't reply, touching his cheek and examining his fingertips when they came away red.

"He can dress up as a human and pretend all he likes," Izaya continued, "but eventually everyone will see him for what he really is."

"Izaya, do you know what's been going on with Shizuo lately?" The question was surprisingly blunt for Shinra, as was the serious expression he fixed on Izaya. Izaya could feel the heaviness of the situation so he did the only thing he could.

He laughed.

"Shizu-chan is as much of a monster as he always has been! Perhaps it's not him that's different, but you're just now noticing!"

"Time's up," Shinra mused.

Izaya flinched.

Shinra noticed, studying his reaction.

"That's what he said, right?" _Did he? That was out loud? It must have been if Shinra heard it but…_ The doctor was watching him carefully, gauging his reaction. "I wonder what it could mean?"

 _You know, don't you?_

"Hey Shinra," Izaya stated casually, "don't you think it's pointless to ask questions you already know the answer to?" Shinra looked surprised for a moment before his face broke into a grin.

"Ah, I guess you're right," he conceded, wincing as he felt along his brow for the size and shape of the cut. Izaya waited but the doctor wasn't forthcoming with any more information. _Keeping that to yourself, huh?_

Noticing Izaya still on the floor, Shinra offered his hand to help him up. Ignoring it, Izaya braced himself against the wall, clenching his teeth as he slowly made his way back to his feet.

"Well, I've probably overstayed my welcome anyways," he shrugged, wincing slightly, "and I'm sure Namie has missed me greatly. I think I'll be on my way."

"Izaya..." Shinra sighed, a look of exasperation and… was that guilt? _Interesting._

"Shinra doesn't seem interested in sharing with me. I'm hurt! I thought that's what friends did for each other!" The words were meant to be offhand and casual with the intention of furthering the doctor's guilt, but Izaya surprised himself with the bitterness in his voice. _Where did that come from?_

"Ah, but it's lying and keeping secrets that makes us human, right?" Shinra answered knowingly, smiling slightly. _That bastard._

"You knew I was listening to you and Celty." Izaya's smirk didn't waver, though he felt his eyes narrowing.

"I assumed as much," Shinra shrugged, adjusting his glasses. It was frustrating how well the doctor knew him sometimes. "They say eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves." Izaya's grin tightened.

"Ah, but who can really trust a liar? Or perhaps Shinra is just ignorant? Why else would he say things that are so completely wrong?" They stared each other down, smiles pleasant despite the biting words and cold expressions. Izaya pushed away from the wall, swaying slightly before finding his balance.

"Well," he smiled, voice sickly sweet, "I think I'll be heading home now. Have you seen Celty?"

"She's not home right now," Shinra answered easily, matching Izaya's smile, "in fact, she felt bad enough that she offered to pick up some things for you. She really is quite thoughtful."

"From my place? Alone?" Izaya's smile fell to a frown and while it was childish, he couldn't help but feel like he'd lost. Shinra raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, alone. I'm pretty sure she can handle whatever strange fetishes you might have hidden."

"That's not…" Izaya grimaced before forcing out a completely fake grin again, "well, I suppose that's one more reason for me to not be here." Shinra studied him a moment, forehead furrowing before realization hit him. _I knew he'd figure it out. He's way too sharp._

"When Namie came to work for you she brought…"

"Yeah."

"And you just left it in your apartment?" Izaya bristled at the incredulity in Shinra's voice. "Don't tell me you have it just displayed on a shelf or something."

"That would just be morbid," Izaya answered, trying to ignore the fact that Shinra was much more correct than he would care to admit. Shinra groaned and Izaya couldn't help but grin in response. "I guess I'll just call a cab then." He walked towards the door, but had only taken a few steps before feeling the painful tug at his chest and a warm wetness wash over his abdomen.

"You tore your stitches," Shinra stated drily, gesturing to his chest. Izaya glanced down and sure enough, the oversized navy T-shirt was starting to darken with his blood.

"It's fine," Izaya replied, smiling to avoid grimacing at the pulling sensation as he continued walking.

"With that much bleeding? I doubt it." Shinra moved to block the informant's path and the stare-down resumed.

"It will stop on its own," Izaya countered, pushing past Shinra.

"Mm," Shinra agreed, "death is by far the most effective way to stop bleeding." Izaya grit his teeth. He wasn't sure how serious Shinra was, but he could already feel a rivulet of blood trailing down his leg. He didn't need to be a doctor to know the bleeding was pretty bad, but his wounded pride refused to back down so easily.

"I don't need your help, Shinra." Part of him knew he was being a complete asshole to the only person in the world willing to call him a friend, but he was tired of being poked, prodded and kept like a prisoner. He hated being injured, weak and not in control. He was fed up with this whole damned situation and unfortunately for Shinra, the doctor was in the line of fire.

But Shinra was frustrated too apparently.

"Really?" The doctor asked, sarcasm coloring his voice, "Well I'll try to keep that in mind next time someone brings you here on the brink of death." For the first time since Izaya had known him, Shinra raised his voice. "I'll tell them 'no, he doesn't need my help' when you bleed all over my floor. I'll say 'he's fine on his own' when your lungs collapse and your heart stops and your skin turns blue and any licensed doctor would have called time of death five minutes ago because there's no way to bring you back at this point. I'll say 'It will heal up on its own' instead of spending a combined forty three hours on stabilization and restorative surgery to make sure all your bones heal properly without further complications. I'll tell them to drop you off at some third rate emergency clinic, or better yet, your place so you can die all on your own without anyone's help!" By the end of his rant, Shinra was nearly shouting as he glared at Izaya, pushing his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose with a huff of breath.

This was normally the moments Izaya lived for. Seeing the reactions of his humans when faced with difficult situations. Normally it filled him with a pleasant warmth and an excited buzz in the back of his head. So why was this different? Why did his stomach clench at the heated words and a large lump form in the back of his throat? Even when humans spat poisonous words of hatred at him he would grin, giddy from the knowledge that he had evoked such powerful feelings.

So why did he have trouble even meeting Shinra's eyes now? Why did the thought that the doctor might hate him as much as all other humans fill him with dread? Izaya swallowed, finding it surprisingly difficult. Finally Shinra's steely gaze faded and his shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry," the doctor sighed, "that was uncalled for."

Izaya shrugged, trying to muster up a grin.

"I just… I really am trying to help you, but you need to trust me." Shinra sighed in exasperation. "I can't tell you everything right now, but you know I'm your friend, right?"

"Of course," Izaya replied, smiling tightly. Shinra looked at him for a moment, then full out stared before a look of realization seemed to wash over him.

"No, you really don't get it…" Shinra said slowly, almost thoughtfully. Izaya fought the urge to frown, irked by the fact that Shinra seemed to think he knew something about him. "You really don't understand. Izaya, you're waiting for the other shoe to drop. You're wondering why I would help you without asking for anything, why I would bother talking to you in middle school," Izaya didn't like the way his stomach seemed to clench a little tighter with every word Shinra was saying. He tried to pass it off as a pain response from the blood still staining his shirt, but the words sounded hollow even to himself.

"You don't understand why I jumped in front of Nakura when he tried to stab you," Shinra continued, "after all, you've never done anything for me, really, so why should I risk my life for you?"

 _If Shinra is so smart, why hasn't he been able to figure that out before?_ Izaya tried to keep his smile in place; it felt like the only thing still holding him together. The buzz in the back of his mind that normally came from reveling in the reactions of his precious humans seemed to double and quadruple until it obscured his thoughts. He was vaguely aware of the fact that, in an ironic twist of fate, he was now on the receiving end of an 'inconvenient truth'.

He wasn't supposed to feel this way.

"My life would be so much simpler if I completely cut you out."

Izaya recalled a moment back in high school, when he'd still been practicing parkour and had miscalculated a jump between two buildings. He'd managed to snag a railing on a fire escape on the way down, suffering only minor bruises, but that moment of weightless falling when his entire body had gone cold and his heart had leapt to his throat had stuck with him.

He felt it again now.

"That's what you're thinking, right? You're just waiting for me to figure it out?"

 _Smile. Laugh. Play it off like it's nothing._

"So you finally realized it after all these years, Shinra?" Izaya forced himself to laugh, but Shinra didn't take the bait.

"Because that's not true," the doctor continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I helped you because I care about your wellbeing. I'm your friend." _Shit._ Shinra was giving him that serious look.

Izaya prided himself on being able to spot lies. He'd always had a tough time with Shinra, but all of his instincts told him the doctor was being honest right now.

And that didn't make sense.

Because Izaya knew what 'friendship' amounted to in the real world. He'd torn enough of them apart for his own amusement to know what a fragile thing it really was. And by all accounts, Shinra should have grown disgusted with him a long time ago.

The man was a mystery.

And that was interesting.

 _What are your real motivations, Shinra?_

Because there was no way it was as simple as the doctor had claimed. He was Orihara Izaya after all; he didn't have friends like all his humans did. He didn't feel the same way they did. Humans lied. Shinra lied. Izaya lived for the truth.

"So, are you going to bleed to death on my floor, or are you going to trust me?" Shinra asked, his tone light.

"Will trusting you make the bleeding stop?" Izaya smiled. It wasn't entirely genuine, it rarely was, but it was as close to real as he'd come for this conversation.

"It's probably the second most effective way," Shinra replied, matching Izaya's mostly genuine smile.

-DRRR-

"Yodogiri-san would like to speak with you,"

Jirou looked up from files he was going over to see a woman in a professional-looking suit, hair partly swept up standing in front of him. She spoke softly, not quite meeting his gaze.

 _I've seen her before I think…_ Suddenly the words she'd spoken hit him.

"Yodogiri-san?" he asked, trying not to let the nervousness he felt into his voice.

"Yes," the woman replied softly, waiting politely, but insistently.

"N-now?"

"Yes," she repeated. Swallowing thickly, Jirou stacked the papers he was working on in a neat pile and stood up, pushing his chair back into place.

"Did, uh… did he say why?" Yodogiri Jinnai didn't usually waste his time with lowly office staff like Jirou. Eiji's taunting words about nobody actually getting 'fired' echoed through Jirou's mind as he fumbled to straighten his tie.

"Something about the finances," she replied, leading him towards the back area where the elevator to the penthouse suites was.

 _Oh god. They've figured it out! They know everything! They're going to torture me and kill me!_ He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. _No, that's not possible, there's no way they could trace that money back to me unless they knew exactly how much and what day…shit._

He had been played like a fool.

He had been a complete idiot to think Eiji wouldn't backstab him the moment he got the chance. A slow-burning anger replaced the fear as the woman led him to the elevator and into a well-furnished office. Jirou finally recognized her as Yodogiri's secretary. _Kujigiri? Kujiribe? Something like that I think…_

"Um, so where is Yodogiri-san?" Maybe he could convince the boss that Eiji had tricked him into taking the money. Of course, Eiji still had those emails that Jirou had sent. But Jirou knew Eiji had been passing along information as well…

 _Ah hell, if I'm going down, the least I can do is take that bastard with me._

"Actually," the secretary said, placing a hand on Jirou's shoulder, "Yodogiri-san won't be joining us today."

"What?" Jirou frowned. He suddenly flinched as a sharp pain radiated from his shoulder. _What was that?_

 _That hurt…_

 _What?_

 _Oh._

 _Mother says it's alright._

 _What?_

 _Everything I know?_

 _Of course, mother._

 _I love you._

-DRRR-

Shizuo tipped his head back against the wall and let out a slow breath. His lungs burned and his legs hurt in a way they hadn't for years. Even while chasing Izaya he couldn't remember the last time he had pushed himself this hard. Without meaning to, he'd run nearly to Shinjuku without stopping, only slowing when his legs had threatened to give out from under him.

The Calm wasn't his voice.

The anger wasn't his voice.

There was _something_ inside his mind that had been whispering to him since he was young. The realization shook him. He'd fought who he was for so long. Tried controlling his anger, his temper, his strength. He'd hated himself, fought with himself, forgiven himself and finally found a way to accept himself.

And now he found out that had never been him.

Or had it? Where did _it_ end and Shizuo begin? The Calm wasn't him. That much he was certain of, but how much of that violent person who threw vending machines and ripped out traffic signs was Shizuo and how much was… whatever that thing was? Maybe he wasn't really violent. Maybe he didn't actually have a temper like a fuse on dynamite.

Maybe he didn't really hate Izaya.

That thought hit him nearly as hard as his initial realization. He slid to the ground, shirt catching and tearing slightly on the rough surface of brick behind him. Shizuo sat hard, unmindful of the snow that cushioned his fall and seeped into the bottom of his pants.

He thought back to that first day he'd met Izaya. The bastard had been sitting there, smirking like he'd seen something especially entertaining and Shizuo had never known such hate. Other people pissed him off, but Izaya…

 _Hate him. Kill him. Destroy him._

The thoughts had to be his own, because who else could be inside his own head? And if he couldn't trust his own instincts, what could he trust?

Shizuo ran a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. Everything wrong in his life had always pointed back to Izaya, as though the informant existed for the sole purpose of making his life miserable. But…

But what if that had just been a convenient scapegoat? It was easy to blame someone you hated for anything that went wrong. It was much harder to admit that your way of thinking might be flawed…

Part of him insisted that this was all some convoluted plan concocted for god-only-knew what reason by Izaya himself. The irony of that thought forced a dry chuckle past his lips.

The whinny of a horse made Shizuo look up. Celty had pulled over next to him carving a neat tire track in the ankle deep snow. She flashed her cell phone at him, worry evident in the tight curling motions her shadows made.

 **Shizuo? Did something happen? Are you okay? What-**

"I'm fine," the bodyguard sighed, pushing himself to his feet with a wince. He dusted the un-melted snow off of his pants as Celty tapped out another message.

 **Really? What are you doing all the way out here? Are you sure you're fine?**

No actually, he wasn't sure he was fine. He'd just found out he had been hearing voices in his head since he was a kid. What was fine about that? Shizuo hesitated, not sure how much he should tell Celty. Would she think he was crazy? Would she believe him?

The absurdity of his situation suddenly hit him and he let out a small chuckle.

 **Shizuo?**

He was worried that a headless fairy from Celtic mythology that rode a motorcycle inhabited by the spirit of a long-dead horse would think he was strange for hearing voices in his head. Still chuckling, Shizuo patted down his pocket until he found the carton he was looking for. He lit the smoke and took a deep pull before turning to Celty who had her head cocked in an almost comically questioning manner.

"Hey, if I tell you something, will you promise not to think I'm crazy?" he asked smiling. Celty hesitated a moment before replying.

 **Depends what it is.**

Shizuo grinned. He could really respect Celty's honesty. His grin faded as he wondered how to describe the voice in his head.

Wait.

Celty didn't even have a head. Would she understand the concept of hearing a voice in her head? _Well she must still have a mind._ Shizuo mused, _she still talks and thinks like a normal person… agh! I'm starting to think like that crazy doctor now._

 **Shizuo?**

"Ah," Shizuo scratched the back of his head, running it through his wet hair, "the thing is… I just realized I might not hate Izaya… well… not as much as I thought I did."

 **?**

"I mean, he's still an asshole. And nothing excuses the fact that he sent a bunch of gangs after me and got me arrested and made me lose my job and-" Shizuo could feel the restless anger start to flood his veins. _Kill him. Hurt him. Destroy him._ He pushed it down and was surprised to find his mind clearing. Not like The Calm where some other part of him seemed to take over, but rather it was just Shizuo. _Huh. That's kind of weird._ It was as though the knowledge of the other 'thing' inside his mind made it easier to suppress it.

"Okay, so I think I do still hate him," Shizuo amended, taking a long drag on his smoke and blowing a thin stream that made the still falling snowflakes dance. "but maybe… maybe I've been overreacting a bit. I don't think I want to kill him."

 **What happened?**

Celty knew the right questions to ask; Shizuo would give her that.

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure, but I realized there's something… like a voice inside my head that just tells me to hate him and to get angry and shit." Shizuo shrugged helplessly, "Like I said, it sounds kind of crazy but… I realized I've been hearing it since I was a kid."

Celty was quiet for a moment, tapping her chin to show she was thinking.

 **Well, it's not really that crazy. Anri-chan hears Saika's voice in her mind constantly. Actually, I wonder if it could be something like that?**

"Who's Anri again?" Shizuo frowned, the name sounding vaguely familiar.

 **The girl who hangs out with Mikado? She has glasses and goes to Raira?**

"The bunny suit girl?"

 **Uh, yeah. That one.**

"Huh," mused Shizuo, snuffing the butt of his smoke, "and she hears voices in her mind?"

 **Yes, that's how she described it. Though she constantly hears…uh… 'I love you'**

"So not exactly the same then," Shizuo snorted.

 **Well, the voice she hears is Saika, a cursed sword that she possesses.**

"Cursed sword, huh?" The blond squinted at the phone screen, snowflakes making colorful spots appear on the surface. Celty carefully wiped the screen before hesitantly tapping out another message.

 **So, you think that this voice is what hates Izaya then?**

"I dunno," Shizuo sighed, "I mean, the bastard has given me more than enough reason to hate him, but maybe… maybe that hate was a little unwarranted in the beginning." He thought again of their first meeting. Izaya had pissed him off with his very existence but if Shizuo was entirely honest, he supposed existing wasn't really a good reason to hate someone.

 **Shinra once thought you could be friends.**

Shizuo couldn't help but laugh at that.

"No way," he chuckled. Celty waited a moment as Shizuo turned his gaze up to the sky, contemplating. "Though," he finally added, "maybe we could have at least civilly ignored each other." After a long moment he continued, more to himself, "maybe even gotten along occasionally." Celty let him ruminate on that thought for a while before finally typing a message.

 **You know, it's not too late.**

Shizuo snorted.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it's too late now," he replied drily, "we've been trying to kill each other for so long, we wouldn't even know what else to do. I think it's best if I just never see that louse again. As long as he stays out of Ikebukuro I won't become a murderer and he won't become a corpse. Win-win."

 **Shinra told me what happened that night. While I was gone.**

Damn Celty was blunt sometimes. Shizuo sighed in frustration, reaching up to adjust his sunglasses before remembering they were in his pocket, protected from the snow.

It had been a confusing night. Because nothing involving Izaya could ever be simple. As much as Shizuo didn't want to recall it, his mind seemed to have other ideas…

 _Shinra's eyes widened with panic, looking up from what he was doing to the wailing machine._

" _Shit…he's crashing…"_

 **A/N: This chapter fought me. Thank you all so much for your encouragement! You guys are the greatest! You're the reason this chapter exists at all. I don't normally do this but…**

 **JustAReader: I feel privileged you took the time to review! (And your English is better than some native speakers I know)**

 **Ame: Glad to hear it!**

 **Reader: Thank you! Your interest means a lot!**

 **Tearsarelikeraindrops: Thanks! Good to hear you're interested!**

 **Kir: I'm sorry this chapter took so long, I'm going to (optimistically) try to update weekly**

 **Tsubasa: Thanks! It means a lot that you're interested and I'm glad I've managed to keep the characters true to form. I find Izaya especially difficult.**

 **Anon: Honestly, there's nothing that brings me more joy than knowing I've managed to evoke an emotional response in my readers with what I've written. Thank you so much, I will do my best to update regularly.**

 **Hanatus: I'm so glad you've enjoyed it! I hope this chapter lives up to your expectation!**

 **Everyone else from previous chapters: Thank you so much for your continued support! Really, you guys are the best!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: …*whispers* sorry…**

"Shizuo, here. Now." The commanding tone Shinra had taken up would have normally pissed Shizuo off if it was directed towards him. Yet for some reason, he felt oddly devoid of his usual irritation.

"What about the larynga-thingy?" Shizuo frowned.

"Yes, bring it," Shinra answered quickly moving next to the bed and flipping a switch on a machine. A high pitched whining filled the room. Shizuo looked helplessly at the tools lining the cupboard, wishing he were anywhere else.

"This one?" Shizuo asked, lifting a metal tool with a round handle and horizontal blade. It sort of looked like a mini scythe. Shinra glanced his way.

"I'd prefer a Macintosh blade, number three. Should be the curved one right next to it." The doctor resumed his work, eyeing the monitor that displayed vital signs. "That's V-fib," Shinra muttered, "Shizuo, I'm going to need your help."

"Uh…right…" The bodyguard lifted the device next to the one he was holding. It was similar, but with a curved blade. He felt relieved when he spied 'Macintosh #3' stamped into the head. "Here." He set the larynga-whatever down on the tray next to Shinra. The doctor was leaning over Izaya, hands clasped together, pressing down rhythmically on his chest.

 _CPR…_ Shizuo thought with a start. Didn't that mean Izaya's heart wasn't beating?

"Okay, I need you to take over with the chest compressions," Shinra told him, barely sparing him a glance.

 _He's got to be kidding…_ Shizuo deadpanned, unable to believe Shinra would ask him- the strongest man in Ikebukuro- to compress the already broken chest of his worst enemy and expect any good to come of it.

"I can't," Shizuo finally replied when it became obvious Shinra was looking for a response. "I don't…" Shizuo held up his hands helplessly, hoping the gesture would articulate what his words could not. _I don't know how to help. I'm not good at this… All I do is break things until they obey me and I can't do that…_

Shinra locked eyes with him, head bobbing in time to the chest compressions.

"If you don't do this, he'll die."

 _Good._

That's what he should say.

He should nod contentedly and turn and walk out of the room.

As a murderer.

 _Damn it._ If that bastard died, it signified Shizuo's anger winning.

Shizuo walked forward mechanically, clasping his hands the way Shinra had his. _I can't believe I'm still here…_ Hesitantly, he reached forward, placing his hands on Izaya's chest. The skin was cold and clammy beneath his palms.

"Good. Center of the chest, just like that," the doctor coached, "Lock your elbows. Good. A little faster, one hundred bpm is the target. You have to push harder than that-"

Shizuo felt something crack under his hands. Shinra made a pained face.

"-uh, okay, not that hard." Nodding the doctor went back to the machine next to the bed. Shizuo noticed the screen had a wildly erratic line signifying pulse. This was punctuated by spikes whenever pushed down on Izaya's chest. In another time, with another person, in another situation, it might almost be sort of interesting.

He kept his focus on Shinra, on the machine, on the door across the room that beckoned him. Anything but on the figure lying on the bed. He watched as Shinra lifted two paddles from either side of the machine with heart monitor, holding them in one hand while applying a gel to the smooth surface. The doctor moved smoothly, methodically. It looked almost like he was also trying to focus on anything except for the identity of his patient. With practiced ease, Shinra turned a knob and hit the large red button at the top of the machine.

"Two hundred joules, charging," he murmured as the machine let out a high pitched whine. "Shizuo, stand clear." The bodyguard stepped back with hands held up, not needing a second warning. He couldn't help the slight twinge of morbid fascination as Shinra placed the pads on Izaya's chest and depressed the buttons on top. The defibrillator discharged and Izaya's body spasmed before going still. Shinra's eyes were glued to the machine display and after a long moment he nodded once.

"Sinus rhythm. Still tachycardic, but it looks stable for now," Shizuo had no idea what the doctor was talking about, but he caught the look of relief in Shinra's eyes. The doctor pressed two fingers to Izaya's jugular.

 _Am I done then?_ Shizuo wondered, looking longingly at the door.

"BP is low," Shinra frowned, "it's hard to tell with all the outside bruising, but I think the internal hemorrhaging is worse than I initially thought. Shizuo, I need you to hang another two bags of saline, I need to intubate before his oxygenation gets any lower." The doctor moved to his medical tray, deft hands arranging an array of medical tools including the larynga-whatever-the-hell-it-was. Shizuo sighed, half frustration and half disappointment.

 _At least I know what saline looks like. I think…_ He rifled through the pouches arranged on the shelf, locating two with clear liquid labeled 'Sodium Chloride 0.9%'. Tentatively picking up the pouches he hung them from the metal hooks on the IV pole, next to the half-empty pouch of blood.

Izaya made a sudden choked gagging sound and Shizuo found himself looking up in alarm before his brain had time to remind himself that this was _Izaya_ and he _didn't care._ Shinra was at the head of the bed, currently holding the informant's chin and sliding the curved metal instrument down Izaya's throat. Shizuo couldn't help but wince a little at just how uncomfortable it looked. Izaya gagged again, his body tensing and Shinra eased back a little.

"He's aspirating," Shinra muttered, "I need suction!" Shizuo hesitated. _Does he mean me?_

"Shizuo! The suction catheter next to the instrument tray," Shinra ordered in a voice that was the closest he had come to panic thus far.

"Uh, right," Shizuo picked up the tube between his thumb and forefinger, holding it out to the doctor, cautiously. Shinra grabbed it quickly, sticking it a painful distance down Izaya's throat, sweeping it expertly around. Shizuo stood by awkwardly, watching as thick pink fluid travelled through the clear plastic tube.

"Pass me the endotracheal tube," Shinra requested, without looking up.

"Uh," Shizuo scanned the instruments on the tray, selecting a thin tube of hard plastic the length of his forearm as the object that most closely resembled 'tube'. Shinra took the object without protest, so the blond supposed he had guessed correctly. _Whoopee._

He watched with a strange mix of fascination and disgust as Shinra inserted the tube an impossible distance down Izaya's throat. About halfway through the procedure, Izaya shuddered again, letting out a half-groan of protest. Shinra grimaced, but continued, securing the top of the tube and taping another piece of hard plastic into place. With deft fingers the doctor connected more tubes that led to a machine and flipped a switch on said machine. He fiddled with the settings for a moment before nodding to himself and the gentle _whiirr click_ of the machine filled the empty space in the room.

Shinra heaved a sigh, relaxing ever so slightly for the first time since this crazy evening had begun. He moved over to the saline bags Shizuo had hung, connecting the IVs with practiced ease. Shizuo glanced longingly at the open doorway. He desperately needed a smoke. Or six. _I'm done here now, right? I can go home and sleep and pretend like this never happened?_ He glanced over at Shinra who was adjusting his glasses and frowning at one of the monitors. Maybe he could sneak out while the doctor was occupied.

"Heartrate is still high," Shinra muttered, tapping the screen twice, "I wonder…" His eyebrows furrowed as he moved closer to the prone figure on the cot, fingers probing the damaged tissue around the ribs. Shinra frowned, his gaze moving to the tube that was sticking out of his patient's chest. Blood was dripping slowly from the end of the tube and the doctor's eyes widened at the sight.

"Shit!" He scrambled for his instrument tray just as one of the machines let out a piercing wail. "He's bleeding into his pleural cavity!" Shinra exclaimed, brandishing a scalpel. _Am I supposed to know what that means?_ "It means his heart and lungs are being constricted by the pressure- Shizuo! I need another chest tube from the cupboard! And suction!"

"Damn it," Shizuo scowled, glaring at Izaya. Because this was definitely his fault. He found the chest tube easily enough, having seen Celty grab one earlier. He handed it to Shinra who tore the clear plastic off and carefully pushed it through the incision he had made in Izaya's side. Shizuo idly wondered just how many more tubes and wires Shinra would end up shoving into the informant in an attempt to keep him alive. He handed the doctor the thin suction tube and noticed something odd.

Shizuo's hands were shaking.

 _Huh. Overexertion maybe? It's been a long day…_

"No, no, no…" Shinra was saying, eyes flashing with something that was close to panic, "c'mon, don't do this…" Shinra's tone caused something in Shizuo's chest to tighten. The doctor was worried. With a start, Shizuo realized that even with Shinra's medical prowess, Izaya still might die. The thought hadn't even occurred to him until that moment.

 _I'm an idiot…_ Just because he'd decided not to kill Izaya didn't mean the bastard was going to live. The damage was already done… As Shizuo watched Shinra lean over Izaya and start pressing on his chest with folded hands he became uncomfortably aware of how little he really acknowledged the consequences of his actions.

"Shizuo! He's flat-lining, I need you to continue the chest compressions!" Shizuo clenched his still shaking hands into fists.

 _So this is what it means to become stronger, huh? Taking responsibility?_ He edged closer to the bed, jaw set, firmly. _Shit. This sucks._ He positioned his hands like Shinra had shown him earlier, pressing down tentatively. Shinra wasn't even watching this time, darting for a drawer and pulling out a syringe. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and took two giant steps back to the bed, plunging the needle into Izaya's chest and emptying the contents with a firm push. Shizuo hesitated, but Shinra made a 'keep going' motion with his hand, turning to look at the monitor that still showed a flat line where a pulse should be. He moved to the newly placed chest tube, grimacing then nodding.

Another glance at the heart monitor.

"Come on…" Shizuo didn't like how close Shinra's voice sounded to pleading. The doctor adjusted a dial on the monitor, gritting his teeth in frustration.

There was something worse than panic in Shinra's eyes now.

Hopelessness.

It pissed Shizuo off.

The ribcage below his hands let out a creak of protest as he pushed down with a little too much force again. Shinra didn't even correct him this time, his face turned to the clock on the wall and eyes hidden by the glare from his glasses. The doctor's mouth was a grim line and Shizuo found he hated that more than his friend's usual goofy smirk. For all his strength, there was nothing Shizuo could do.

"Four minutes…" Shinra murmured, nodding once at the clock. The doctor retrieved another syringe from the drawer, but his actions were more mechanical than frantic now. Shinra depressed the plunger on the second syringe and motioned with his hands for Shizuo to move over. Relieved, the blond let Shinra take over the CPR, finding himself surprisingly winded.

He took a couple of steps back, catching his breath. There was a heaviness in the air that was making it hard to breathe and Shizuo was starting to feel suffocated from it. He wanted out. Time crawled as Shizuo's eyes scanned the room. The clock. The counter. The heart monitor that was still whining in protest. Anything but the cot in the middle of the room.

Shizuo was shifting awkwardly from one foot to the next, trying to get his shaking hands to stop twitching with the need for a smoke when he realized there was a sudden absence of sound. The rhythmic groaning from the bedframe had stopped. He looked up sharply and felt something oddly akin to dread. Shinra was leaning over the cot, head bowed, arms shaking. He looked defeated.

 _Hey…_

Shinra covered his face with a hand, brow furrowing as though he were in pain.

 _Wait…_

Shizuo moved forward with agitation that he fully intended to blame on nicotine withdrawal.

 _You're not supposed to give up…_

Shinra pulled his hand slowly down his face, bowed head still hiding his expression.

 _You're a doctor!_

Shizuo stepped forward, angrily.

"You're supposed to fix him!" Whoops, that might have been out loud. It did, however, get Shinra to look up. Shizuo was taken aback by the strange look in the doctor's eyes. It was a bizarre twist of misery and bitter amusement.

"That's not… ah…nevermind," Shinra shook his head, turning away from Shizuo.

And away from Izaya.

Who was dead.

He suddenly felt drained. He had killed a man and while Izaya may have deserved to die, Shizuo didn't want to be a murderer. Even now, even after his death, Izaya was finding ways to ruin Shizuo's life. The blond waited to feel the usual rage, welcomed it even. Maybe it would allow him to feel justified, or at the very least it would stop these emotions that were frighteningly close to regret and guilt.

The anger didn't come.

Staring at the too-still body of his late arch nemesis, Shizuo could only summon a great emptiness.

 _Why?..._

His body was moving on its own- a sensation he was familiar with.

 _Why can't I…?_

He was standing next to the cot now. In the background he could hear Shinra washing his hands and tidying the counter slowly, his frantic energy from earlier evaporated.

 _I can't…_

Shizuo thought of all the things Izaya had put him through over the years: the high school gangs, trouble with the authorities, framing him, taunting him, cutting him… it was all so… _meaningless._

 _Why can't I hate him?_

The hatred wouldn't come. Izaya was a bastard and not someone Shizuo would ever want to be around, but the hatred that had dominated his life was just… _gone._ It was the freedom Shizuo had always wanted, tempered only by the fast that he'd paid for it with someone else's blood.

And it was terrible.

He wasn't aware that he had resumed the CPR until he heard Shinra's hesitant voice next to him.

"Shizuo…" the doctor ventured, placing a hesitant hand on the bodyguard's arm, "you can stop." Shizuo ignored him, shrugging off the hand. Shinra rubbed the back of his neck, clearly at a loss for words. Shizuo mentally archived the moment to relish later.

The compressions seemed to be more difficult than before. Shizuo was a little surprised to find his arms shaking with exertion, but he ignored it. He was a master at pushing his body past its limits after all.

 _I can't hate him like this…_ And if he couldn't hate him, that left room for even less desirable feelings, like guilt.

The minutes wore on, Shizuo continuing the CPR while Shinra watched, awkwardly. Surprisingly though, he didn't try to stop Shizuo again.

"Can't you…zap him…or something?" Shizuo asked between his own panting breaths.

"Defibrillation has no effect on asystolic hearts," Shinra murmured, the usual gleam in his eye that came from delivering medical lectures noticeably absent, "that's a myth perpetuated by media. The correct course of action is a round of epinephrine every few minutes and CPR."

"That's…it?" Shizuo puffed, "there's nothing…else you…can do?"

"Pray," Shinra said quietly, "though in Izaya's case… you might want to skip that step. Who knows what's listening?" Shizuo snorted between compressions, managing a quick head shake.

"Are you…going to…give him…that…epi-whatever?"

"Epinephine," Shinra corrected softly, "and no, I've already exceeded a lethal limit- Shizuo. Stop." Shizuo continued to ignore the doctor who blew a long breath of exasperation in response.

"Shizuo-"

"Get the epinine,"

"Epinephrine."

"Yeah, that."

"Shizuo… you're not going to stop, are you?" When his question was only met with silence, Shinra shook his head slowly. "If it were a simple matter of stubbornness don't you think I would still be trying?" There was a note of frustration creeping into the doctor's voice now, "This is the kind of thing medical dramas perpetuate!" Shinra threw his hands in the air as he moved towards the counter adjacent the bed, "Everyone can be saved if you believe enough!" The cynical tone sounded almost wrong coming from the usually carefree doctor and Shizuo glanced over to see him pulling another syringe out, despite his words.

"Well sometimes people can't be saved!" Shinra continued, bowing his head and dropping his voice, "sometimes your friends are idiots, hell-bent on destruction; their own or others… and you just have to watch…" The doctor straightened, fire returning to his voice as he strode across the small room, stabbing this shot into the body that had been Izaya.

They both seemed to hold their breath for a moment, but when nothing happened, Shinra's shoulders slumped.

"Sometimes your best isn't good enough," the doctor muttered, dropping the used shot in the proper receptacle and slouching against the wall.

 _Come on you bastard._ Shizuo thought, gritting his teeth and trying to remember not to push too hard. _If nothing else, you have to owe Shinra at least a 'thank you' by now for all the effort he's put into saving your sorry ass._

In truth, Shizuo wasn't sure how much longer he could continue. His arms were shaking, his knees had turned to water and his vision was starting to tunnel. He was so focused on _one more_ , followed by _another one_ and _one more_ that his first thought when the body beneath him convulsed was: _Damnit! Hold still!_

 _Wait…_

"Shinra!" His voice was somewhere between a growl and a croak but it was enough to get the doctor's attention. Shinra was instantly beside him, grieving friend turned to medical professional again.

"Sinus rhythm," Shinra muttered, checking instruments and looking over Izaya as Shizuo backed away awkwardly, "tachycardic, which is to be expected of course but, amazingly stable… BP is still too low, I need to find the bleeding, but first we need to get him hemodynamically stabilized-"

The slamming of the front door caused Shinra to look up sharply, a small smile finally appearing on his face.

"Ah, my dearest has the most perfect timing!" Moments later, Celty entered the small room, dropping an insulated bag next to the medical tray.

"Celty! You have wonderful timing! We need to get him stabilized so I can find the source of all this bleeding. I'll need you to hang two more units of blood while I wash up." Shizuo watched the two of them moving smoothly in sync for a moment before deciding he was no longer needed.

He slipped out of the room, shaking hands already fumbling for his pack of cigarettes. Deciding that ten flights of stairs was too far, he instead headed for Shinra's balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him. It took him four tries to coax a flame from his lighter, something he was used to doing unconsciously.

Izaya was alive.

Izaya was alive and Shizuo wasn't sure how he felt about that.

 _What did I just do?_

He took a hearty puff of the smoke between his fore and middle finger, breathing out slowly. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd made a huge mistake.

 _Damnit! I try to kill him and feel like I screwed up, then I sav- … let him live, and I feel like I screwed up!_

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?!" Shizuo growled, suddenly realizing that the remaining half of his smoke had already ended up ground to ash beneath his toe. He'd also left four distinctly finger-shaped bends in the aluminum barricade encircling Shinra's balcony.

"Damnit," he muttered, lighting up another cigarette. He took a slower drag this time, trying to savor the nicotine. A slight breeze rifled through his hair and made him aware of the chilly temperature. He was still covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his black vest had been discarded at some point, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He couldn't even recall doing that.

The hatred was there again. He was surprised to find it swimming in the back of his mind. It wasn't everpresent and overpowering, but he knew it was there nevertheless. Shizuo wasn't sure whether to feel comforted or frustrated by it.

He was lost in his thoughts and well into his fifth or sixth smoke when he heard the glass door sliding closed again. He glanced back, expecting Celty, but was surprised to see Shinra. The doctor didn't say anything, just leaned his elbows on the railing next to Shizuo for a long moment, staring at the bustling city spread out before them.

"Shouldn't you be doing doctor things?" Shizuo finally asked, casting a sidelong glance at his friend. Shinra offered him a tired half-smile in return.

"He's stable for now, I think I've got the worst of the bleeding. I'm just waiting for his vitals to strengthen so I can set some of the bones. The ribs are going to be a nightmare," he added, making a face. Shizuo turned back towards the city, listening to the far-off noise of car engines, trains and the occasional siren. The silence stretched on until he couldn't stand it.

"Well?" he asked, the word coming out a little harsher than he intended, "aren't you going to say anything?"

"About what?" Shinra questioned, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"About this!" Shizuo faced the doctor incredulously, gesturing wildly with his hand, "about me almost killing him, about how we should be getting along or some bullshit, isn't he supposed to be your friend or something?"

"But you didn't kill him," Shinra turned to him, an odd tone in his voice, "Izaya can be difficult and I know you can't help how much you hate him, but Shizuo, you didn't kill him! Even though you're- well, anyway, I'm really glad you didn't."

"What do you mean-" Shizuo frowned, feeling like he was missing something, but Shinra wasn't paying attention anymore.

"Actually, you technically saved his life. Well… I mean you were the one who nearly killed him in the first place but still-"

"Yeah, about that," Shizuo interrupted, scowling now, "no one else ever hears about that, got it? I'm going home, and going to forget this whole stupid thing happened."

"But Shizuo," Shinra's voice took on an almost whiny aspect and as annoying as it was, Shizuo was secretly glad that the doctor was at least starting to sound more like himself.

"Seriously," Shizuo deadpanned, locking eyes with Shinra to make sure he understood, "don't tell anyone about this or I'll punch you."

"Ah… right," Shinra nodded, a half-nervous smile forming, "I won't tell a soul."

-DRRR-

… **Ah… Shinra didn't mention that part…**

Celty tapped out nervously on her phone.

"Honestly," Shizuo grunted, stretching his arms that had gone stiff with the cold, "I'm kind of glad I don't have to explain it to anyone. Still though… I feel like I should hit him out of principle."

 **Er… how about I hit him for you?**

Shizuo leaned in to read the message, snorting in reply.

"Fine, I guess," he sighed, shoving his cold hands into his pockets. His side was starting to throb in earnest from where that punk had stabbed him and the cold wind was really starting to chill him.

 **What are you going to do about Izaya?**

Celty questioned cautiously.

"Hopefully, avoid him for the rest of my life," Shizuo replied with a frown, "of course, knowing him, that's probably not going to happen."

 **What if you tried to talk to him?**

"Huh?" Celty tapped out a message rapidly, as if worried she would lose her nerve halfway through. She showed it to Shizuo who had to double take to make sure he was reading the kanji correctly.

 **It's crazy, I know, but maybe you could apologize? I mean, you did almost kill him and all. Even if he maybe deserves it, someone has to be the better person and do it, right?**

Shizuo laughed heartily, despite the pinching feeling of pulling stitches in his side.

"That's good, Celty," he chuckled, taking another inhale of sweet nicotine before noticing Celty's exaggerated drooped head and shoulders. "Shit. You're serious aren't you?"

 **You said you might be able to get along…**

"But apologize to that asshole?! No way! He's the one that-"

 **Apologizing isn't about keeping score, it's about what you did.**

Celty held up her phone defensively for a long moment, with Shizuo scowling at the screen until it went dark. The bodyguard ran a hand through his hair, turning away and letting out a long breath. Celty waited patiently as he paced through the freshly fallen snow, his long strides making small trenches in the white powder.

 _Can I really do that?_ He tried to imagine a life of coexistence with Izaya. Even being in the same room as him without hurling the nearest heavy object was difficult to picture. Something deep in the back of his mind resented the idea so vehemently it nearly made him feel sick. _But…_

"I'll think about it," he finally mumbled, not meeting Celty's gaze. When he finally looked up, Celty showed him her phone again.

 **I'm glad. Do you want a lift home? It's pretty cold out tonight.**

"Yeah, that would be great," Shizuo nodded appreciatively. Celty formed a helmet for him out of her shadows and Shizuo climbed on behind her, noticing the messenger bag she had slung across her shoulder.

"Delivery job?" He questioned.

 **Something like that.**

Celty acknowledged.

 **Hang on tight. Shooter handles the snow better than other bikes, but it's still slippery.**

Shizuo grunted in reply as adjusted his grip. As the bike took off, he caught something move out of the corner of his eye. A figure, too far in the shadows to make out clearly watched attentively as they sped off. Shizuo craned his neck to see, but Celty had already taken the corner and the figure and his intense eyes disappeared from sight. Shizuo tried to tell himself it was nothing, but he couldn't quite make himself believe it.

 **A/N: The long overdue update is complete! As per usual, all of your support is greatly appreciated! As far as relationships in this story go, I'm still not 100% sure myself. Shizaya romance isn't in the original outline for this story, but with that said, I've changed it half a dozen times and it's not off the table either. We'll see where it goes, I guess.** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm bored," Ren proclaimed, sprawling backwards onto the couch with an overly dramatic sigh. He glanced at Michiko out of the corner of his eye to see if she was paying any attention to him.

She wasn't.

"I mean, Kaito gets to play at pretending to be a head shrink and even Hideki gets to keep busy, but we have to 'wait here'. It's ridiculous." He glanced over again at the diminutive woman in glasses who was still completely engrossed in the soft glow of her laptop.

"Well," he continued, an impish grin forming, "I suppose we could at least go for dinner. If you let me treat you I could show you this really neat place in East Ikebukuro that serves the best sashimi."

"No thank you," came the soft voice from behind the laptop.

"The first words you speak in three hours and it's a rejection," Ren grinned, putting a hand to his chest as though wounded. It was a wasted gesture as Michiko still hadn't looked up. He dropped his hand and his grin, letting the silence invade the room again.

With another sigh, he turned his body to face her, pushing his bangs away from his face absently.

"You know, I kind of expected this to be more exciting. Big heroic, world-saving kind of exciting, not sitting around all day while the higher ups do all the work." Michiko still didn't look up, but Ren noticed her fingers had stopped flying along the keyboard.

"He's going to get all the credit for your hard work, you know."

"That does not concern me," Michiko replied softly, finally looking up to meet Ren's gaze, "the only thing that matters is stopping Pandora." Ren sat up now, feeling like he was getting somewhere at last.

"You don't think Kaito will manage to find her in time, do you?"

Michiko's hesitation spoke louder than her voice ever had.

"We need to motivate Shizuo into helping us," Ren prompted, watching Michiko's face for any sign that she agreed with him.

"You sound as though you already have an idea," Ren found it interesting that such a small voice could sound so accusatory.

"Well, I was thinking of giving my step-brother in Saitama a call, he owes me a favor," Ren began casually. Michiko's normally soft grey eyes turned steely.

"The one who is in that gang? You do understand what you are doing, correct?" Ren was suddenly less sure.

"Of course I understand," he grinned. He had never let uncertainty stop him before. Michiko held his gaze a moment longer before nodding in agreement.

"Very well," she said, "however, provoking him like that will not work. If you truly desire to motivate him, there is another way." She gestured for Ren to join her on the couch and he couldn't entirely suppress the sly grin that made its way to his lips. The expression was soon changed to one of surprise, eyebrows disappearing under his thick bangs as he took in the information displayed on the laptop screen. Michiko clicked on one of the names, opening another file on a different person.

"Really? I would never have guessed."

"It will be the most effective way," Michiko replied firmly. Ren shrugged in agreement then grinned again.

"You know, that offer for dinner still stands whenever you change your mind," He couldn't help but say it.

"I assumed as much from the last fourteen times you have offered," Michiko replied easily in her emotionless way.

"Cold," Ren commented, playing up the wounded gesture again. This time however, Michiko saw it and Ren could swear he saw a dry smile tug at her lips for just a moment.

"You truly are slow, are you not?" she murmured softly.

-DRRR-

The penthouse had the distinct air of disuse that a place acquires when someone has not lived in it for some time. Hideki sniffed and ran a gloved hand over a polished end table. His fingertip came back clean. Someone was clearly still looking after the place then. He frowned, scanning the empty room with annoyance.

A day and a half of observation and a couple of casual questions to other residents and a particularly chatty doorman had revealed that the owner of this apartment, one Orihara Izaya, had not been home for several weeks. The doorman had added that Orihara's secretary had come by every day for the first week and a half, but hadn't returned for six days now.

After confirming the apartment was indeed empty, getting inside hadn't proved to be difficult. The lock, while expensive and well-made had proven little challenge for Hideki who had slipped inside, closing the door silently behind him. A quick sweep of the dwelling had proven everyone correct: the place was deserted.

Hideki's frown deepened. He wasn't a private investigator, damn it! His job wasn't to find missing people, it was to make people go missing. He had no idea when this information broker planned to return, or even if he planned to return at all. If Hideki had thought any of the apartment staff had any clue where Orihara might be, he would have already kidnapped them and extracted the location from them as painfully as possible.

Scanning the room again and hoping to come across something that might lead him to Orihara's whereabouts, he noticed a paper neatly folded on the computer desk that dominated the back half of the penthouse suite.

Gingerly unfolding it, he scanned the brief message penned in neat, curt handwriting.

 _Izaya,_

 _I assume you have been captured, killed or otherwise incapacitated. Whether it was by the many gangs you toy with, the Yakuza or Heiwajima-san, whatever the case, I'm sure you probably deserved it. As this means I will no longer be receiving a paycheck, you can take this as my written notice. I have taken that "thing" from the bookcase as well. Given that I assume you are dead, I can't see what purpose you would need it for. If, by some miracle you are not dead, I expect to be reimbursed for the missing two weeks of pay._

 _Yagiri_

He refolded the rather unhelpful note and pocketed it. Apparently Orihara's secretary didn't know any more than he did. Hideki glanced up at the loft area that was ringed with bookshelves. Yagiri had claimed to have taken whatever "thing" that had been in the shelves, but with no other possible clues, Hideki shrugged and easily scaled the ladder to the loft. He was carefully examining the books, trying to discern which had been recently moved. It took a while as the bookshelves had been fairly well dusted, but eventually he did notice several tomes that seemed hastily re-shelved.

Carefully removing them revealed an empty space behind the shelf. At first there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, but upon closer inspection Hideki noted a discolored ring stained into the dark wood of the shelf. It was about the size of his fully extended hand but what could have created it was anyone's guess.

Disappointed, Hideki had just finished replacing the books exactly as he'd found them when he heard the sound of the front door opening.

 _Idiot!_ He reprimanded himself, dropping low to the ground and gripping the handle of his hidden tanto. From his vantage point he could clearly see the front door crack open cautiously before a figure stepped through.

Hideki blinked in surprise. He had been expecting the secretary Yagiri, one of the building staff or even Orihara himself, but instead found himself watching a figure clad completely in a black leather biker outfit with a yellow full-face helmet.

 _The black rider, is it?_ He wondered if the figure before him was the legend he'd heard Ren mention once before. The description seemed to match. His friend had excitedly told him about how the black biker wasn't human, but some mythological shadow creature that didn't have a head.

Watching carefully, Hideki noted the figure's human-like movements, cautiously entering the penthouse and looking around. Yet there was something distinctly _other_ about it too. The black biker moved to the desk underneath Hideki's hiding spot and he shifted trying to stay out of direct sight. His foot brushed the carpeted floor ever so slightly. With the background hum of lights, the fan, and the sound of running water several apartments over, no human ear should have been able to discern the sound.

The black biker, however froze, head instantly snapping towards Hideki. He was glad he had elected to flatten himself against the floor instead of trying to move over. As it was, he wasn't certain he was completely out of sight, but could only hope. After a long moment, the black biker continued rummaging around the desk. Hardly daring to breathe, Hideki listened carefully to the sound of a laptop lid being closed and a power cord being pulled from behind the desk and wound up. The black rider moved a couple more objects around before smoothly striding to the other side of the room and disappearing upstairs to the bedroom.

 _Interesting._ Hideki mused to himself, wondering at the figure's motives. It had only taken one of the laptops and possibly the cell phones that had also occupied the desk. _Probably not a thief then,_ he decided, _then again, seeing as Orihara is an informant, the information on that laptop was probably hundreds of times more valuable than the machine itself._

The sound of eerily soft footsteps made him look up and he saw the figure cross the hall, stuffing clothing into a bag that seemed to be made entirely of shadows.

 _Clothing?_ Hideki felt his face split into a wide malicious grin, _now who would need Orihara's clothes I wonder?_ He suddenly remembered another detail about the black biker Ren had mentioned. Apparently, it currently worked as a delivery rider.

By the time the figure emerged from the bathroom across from the bedroom, Hideki was already outside the apartment, descending the many flights of stairs and finding a good location where he could safely follow the black rider from. He noted the lightly falling snow and smiled again. Following the distinct tire tracks of the black motorcycle parked in front of the apartment complex in the fresh snow would be child's play.

He allowed the black biker a good two minute head start before following with his rental car. He could stay far enough back that the black biker would never suspect it was being followed.

-DRRR-

Celty was being followed.

She wondered if she should tell Shizuo as he hopped stiffly off of her bike, offering her a wave of gratitude. She decided to see if her pursuer continued to follow her or stopped after she'd dropped off Shizuo.

It followed.

Her pursuer was good, staying just out of sight but still able to track her. After a few minutes of trying to shake him she finally doubled back and stopped in an abandoned park next to a winding oak tree. She summoned her scythe and waited.

To her complete surprise, she heard the whinnying sound of a horse. A moment later a shadowy figure rounded the corner astride a large black bike that could have been Shooter's twin. If Celty had a jaw, she was fairly certain it would have dropped. The figure's face was obscured by a dark reflective surface that she assumed was a biker helmet, though it was difficult to tell as shadows poured from around it and seemed to form a hooded cloak that billowed and rustled in time to a wind only it could feel.

It was different and unearthly. Unnatural and yet completely and undeniably familiar.

It was a dullahan.

 _ **Surprise.**_

Celty wasn't sure where that emotion had come from, but she knew it was separate from her own. The other dullahan stopped in front of her and slowly pulled out a phone with a keyboard. For some reason she couldn't adequately describe, Celty was certain this other dullahan was male. _Didn't someone say once that dullahan were only female?_ Of course, Celty had never met another dullahan, or at least, didn't remember ever meeting one. Those memories were locked in her head, wherever it might be.

 **I'm not here to fight you.**

Celty read the message on the phone and hesitated for a moment, scythe still poised. The male dullahan held up his hands in a placating gesture.

 _ **Sincerity.**_

Again, the foreign emotion came to Celty, and oddly enough her instincts told her she could trust this other dullahan. At least as far as his first words were concerned. Still, she dissolved her scythe slowly, keeping her guard up.

 **You noticed me. I'm impressed.**

 _ **Impressed.**_

Celty finally realized that the strange _other_ emotions that were coming to her were being projected by the other dullahan. _Does that mean he can read me as well?_ _Is this normal for dullahans?_ Honestly, she had no idea, given that her experience with dullahans was limited to herself. Cautiously pulling out her own phone, Celty tapped out a message, keeping an eye on the other figure.

 **Why are you following me?**

 _ **Hesitation.**_

 _He's clearly hiding something._

 **Ah, well that's a bit of a long story. I'm afraid I can't really get into it now.**

If she was broadcasting her emotions to this other dullahan, Celty was certain that she was radiating suspicion at this point. Slowly typing out another message, she showed it to the other figure.

 **That's… really suspicious. You're… you're not after me to take me back are you?**

 _ **Amusement.**_

 **Back where?**

Celty turned away, flustered. She scratched at the back of her nonexistent head; a habit she had picked up to let people know she was agitated. With a start, she suddenly realized that if this other dullahan was indeed reading her emotions the same way she felt his, the gesture was completely unnecessary. _Maybe this is how dullahans convey emotion without facial expressions?_ It was beyond strange.

 **I-I don't know… back to… uh… wherever it is dullahans normally live I guess…**

 _ **Amusement.**_

 **Why would you think that?**

 **I don't know! I um… I lost my head, so there's some things I don't remember… oh! Do… do I actually know you? If we've met before, I'm sorry… I can't remember.**

 _ **Grim amusement.**_

 _Strange, it's a subtle change, but there's something different now._

 **We've met before.**

The other dullahan confirmed her suspicions, flashing the screen quickly before adding:

 **Though it's not surprising you don't recognize me.**

Celty cocked her "head", trying to recall the other dullahan anyways. There was definitely something vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on it. Hesitantly, she typed out:

 **What are you doing in Ikebukuro? Are you… searching for something as well?**

 _ **Grim determination.**_

The male dullahan glanced off into the distance for a moment before facing her again, not taking his gaze off of her even as he typed out his message.

 **Celty, there's something very dangerous happening. I'm here to try and stop it from happening.**

Celty felt a shiver roll down her spine. Between the ominous words and the intense emotions emanating from the other dullahan, she was starting to feel really uneasy. It wasn't that she didn't believe him; rather, she really did think he was telling the truth and that was the truly unsettling part. Without really knowing why she was asking, she found herself typing:

 **Does it have to do with Orihara Izaya at all?**

 _ **Complete surprise.**_

The other dullahan had apparently been taken so completely aback by her comment, he fumbled with his phone for a moment, nearly dropping it.

 **Why do you say that?**

Celty shrugged, unsure herself.

 **A friend of mine claims he's always at the heart of every diabolical plot. He's a bit paranoid, but he's also usually right.**

 _ **Tense amusement.**_

 **Well, he's more or less right this time too. Orihara Izaya is the central point from which this chaos stems. I suppose he's finally reaping what he's sown.**

 _ **Bitter amusement.**_

Celty internally sighed, about to type out another message, but the male dullahan beat her to it, surprisingly adept at typing quickly on the small phone keyboard.

 **It would be easier to simply let him die, but unfortunately he must live. There's a role only he can fulfill.**

 _ **Sadness.**_

 _What? I don't understand, what's going on?_ Instead, she found herself asking:

 **What do you need from me?**

 _ **Regret. Guilt. Sadness. Determination.**_

The emotions flashed by so quickly, Celty had a difficult time understanding them all. It worried her though, and the next message, carefully and slowly tapped out, did nothing to assuage her concerns.

 **Hopefully nothing. But if I can't stop it… I may need you to pay a very steep price. I'm sorry.**

 **W-what do you mean?**

 **I have to go. If you're on your way home, I need to be in Saitama shortly.**

The dullahan turned to go, leaving Celty more confused and distraught then she would care to admit to anyone except maybe Shinra.

 **Wait! Can you tell me your name?**

Celty nearly leapt in front of him to show him the message. He hesitated for a long moment before typing on his phone, erasing it, and typing more slowly.

 **You can call me Nozomu Shinya.**

The dullahan turned away without waiting for her reaction. He nudged his bike into a speedy takeoff, spinning for a moment and throwing up fresh snow, before disappearing into the night.

The name was a fake, Celty knew right away. It was too odd to be real. It was also written in kana instead of the usual kanji which was strange. She puzzled over it for a moment, but eventually shrugged and urged Shooter into a fast pace, eager to return home.

-DRRR-

Hideki watched with interest as the two bikers finally parted ways after several minutes of silent conversation. For a moment he'd wondered if this was supposed to be some sort of diversion tactic. Both motorcycles looked eerily similar, but if he was supposed to be confused as to which biker was his original target, it seemed logical to have the newcomer wear the same distinct yellow helmet instead of the strange smoky cloak. He concluded that this must just be a chance meeting which meant the black biker still had no idea it was being followed. Shifting the car back into gear, he continued following the motorcycle tracks, still leading to what he hoped was his target.

-DRRR-

Izaya yawned, wincing as the deep breath pulled at his still tender stitches. He'd spent the majority of last night and this evening going through his emails, text messages and voicemails that had gone unanswered for the past few weeks. The damage was almost as bad as he feared. There had been several clients he'd had to simply cut ties with and many others that he'd had to pull out every ounce of charm and persuasion at his disposal to convince he could still be trusted. Seeing many years of careful planning and manipulation come undone so easily had left him in a sour mood and despite the fact that Shinra was going to give him hell for it, he'd already snapped at Celty. Truthfully though, he was glad to receive his laptop and cell phones.

And clothes.

He'd surprised himself with just how happy he had been to see his own clothes. Which reminded him, he still had to ask Shinra about where his favorite jacket had disappeared to. He was pretty certain he'd been wearing it that night.

Izaya swallowed back another yawn, mousing over to his emails again. His ribs were screaming in protest from the long hours spent propped up against the pillow and his one good arm ached and trembled with the strain of the splint's extra weight. His own weakness was only fueling his irritation and it was taking all of his concentration to remain courteous to his many rather demanding clients.

He'd counted himself lucky that he'd only missed two relatively minor calls from Shiki. The Awasuku-kai member was really someone Izaya couldn't afford to piss off right now. He already knew he was under an, albeit rather deserved, large amount of suspicion from many members of the yakuza group and really had to be careful how he handled them.

"Izaya," called a voice from outside his door. The informant mentally sighed. No doubt the doctor was going to ream him out for being rude to Celty earlier.

"Hm?" Izaya asked instead, pretending to be completely absorbed in his emails. Shinra entered, looking a little frazzled, running a hand through his hair.

"I just got an urgent house call from one of my important clients," Shinra explained, crossing the room and grabbing his medical bag. "Celty is going to drive me there, so we probably won't be home until late."

"Are you telling me to be good while you're gone?" Izaya asked, smirking slightly. Shinra glanced at him, offering a quick, tight smile before returning to packing his bag. He opened various drawers and cupboards, grabbing things seemingly at random.

"I suppose I am. Just try not to do anything stupid, okay?" Then as an almost afterthought, "something about this seems off…" Izaya studied the doctor a moment longer, debating with himself whether it would be worth the effort to try to leave the apartment while Shinra and Celty were gone. Much to his chagrin, he realized he really did hurt too much to make it very far.

"There's still some leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry," Shinra was saying as he surveyed the contents of his bag one last time before nodding and heading for the door, "oh, and Izaya?"

"Hm?"

Shinra offered him a grin and a little wave before adding,

"Be good!"

Izaya snorted as the doctor disappeared. Moments later he heard the front door close and soon after that the sound of a whinnying horse vanishing into the night.

He wondered for a moment what mischief he could cause before reluctantly coming to the conclusion that he was too tired to be bothered.

 _I could take a shower though._ His first attempt at taking a shower had resulted in a ninety minute endeavor, half of which was spent trying to take off his borrowed clothes without tearing any stitches or passing out from the pain of lifting his arms. The ten minutes of showering had been agonizing and the clean feeling hadn't really persisted for very long after he'd worked up a pain-fueled sweat trying to get back _into_ his clothes because he would be damned if he asked for help getting dressed.

Still, the idea of feeling clean and wearing his familiar clothing again was too great of a temptation to resist.

Izaya closed the laptop, setting it on the side table and carefully slid out of bed, hobbling over to the neatly folded pile of clothes Celty had left him. Selecting a black shirt and a pair of slacks he made his way to the bathroom, ignoring the mirror as had been his usual routine since that first good look.

Getting undressed was as bad as he remembered. Even with the loose T-shirt, there was no getting around lifting his arms to some degree which made his eyes water with pain. The pants were somewhat easier, using his feet, he was able to step out of them without too much difficulty. His boxers were much the same, he kicked them off to join the rest of his discarded clothing in a pile.

 _I guess I shouldn't be getting the bandage wet,_ he mused, glancing at the gauze which still covered a large portion of his chest. The bruising and swelling were finally starting to recede, but his chest still looked oddly misshapen. Izaya looked away, preferring not to think about it too much. He adjusted the water and carefully stepped into the shower.

The shower itself was actually pretty nice this time. Without the fresh wounds, the water didn't burn like it had before and Izaya felt himself relaxing as steam filled the small bathroom. The gentle _shushing_ of the water and the warmth that quickly filled the room lulled him into a peaceful semi-conscious state. He stood there for a long while, finally beginning the painful task of washing his hair while trying not to get his arms or chest too wet.

The water had just started to get cold when he finally, reluctantly turned off the tap. He stepped carefully out of the wet tub; a fall on the slick linoleum without his arms to catch himself was not something he wanted to chance.

Izaya slowly dried himself and pulled on his clothes. The shirt was a struggle, and he had to sit heavily on the toilet seat and concentrate on his breathing for a while after managing to pull it over his head. _Was it worth it?_ He wondered to himself, grimly. Finally able to stand, he draped the towel over his shoulders to catch the stray droplets from the hair he hadn't bothered to dry and made his way slowly back down the hall to his room.

 _Something's wrong._ Izaya wasn't sure what it was, but with sudden certainty he tensed. It was the sixth sense that had kept him alive in all of his bouts against Shizuo and he'd learned to trust it instinctively. He entered the room slowly, cautiously.

Everything looked the same.

Except…

His laptop was moved.

The screen was flipped open.

Frowning, Izaya took a step towards it.

Instantly he realized his mistake when his danger sense spiked. He turned to face the presence that had been behind the door, but wasn't fast enough.

With incredible skill, the presence behind him grabbed his shoulder, knocked his legs out from under him and pinned him to the ground. In the seconds before his body registered the pain, he felt something sharp pressed to his neck and heard a voice.

"I was told you were dangerous. How disappointing. At least have the courtesy to scream nicely, okay?"

Then the pain hit.

 **A/N: I apologize for the formatting nightmare that was the dullahan conversation. Also for the cliffhanger (but not really).**


	10. Chapter 10

The world flared like a camera lens for a moment, all of his senses going out of focus as Izaya tried to breathe through the pain. Everything sharpened suddenly with the rush of endorphins, leaving him hyper-aware of everything.

The cold laminate floor pressed to his cheek.

The thundering of his pulse, ringing in his ears.

Droplets from his still-wet hair sliding down the back of his neck.

The knee pressed firmly into his lower back, and of course,

The unforgiving metal pressed to his jugular.

Izaya was surprised to find he wasn't dead yet. His mind still wasn't thinking properly, too occupied with thoughts of _how easy it would be for that blade to cut into him_ and _he was still alive for this one single moment_ and _this might be the last breath he ever took, the last time he would experience any of these things-_

"Why are you laughing?"

 _What?_ But sure enough, Izaya became aware of a raspy chuckle that seemed to be coming from himself. _Huh._ Was this his natural reaction to life-threatening danger? The thought was a little worrisome. Still…

"I had forgotten," he let out a strained chuckle, "how wonderful humans are! I've been emailing and texting all day, but I remember now why I love humans so much in person! The kind of humans that wouldn't get their hands dirty, the kind that would, and of course, the kind that would reduce themselves to a tool for the former! I love them all!" He found himself grinning manically, despite the erratic thundering of his heart and the cold sweat that had broken out over his whole body.

The weight on top of him let out a low chuckle.

"What a poor reaction," it said in a voice Izaya faintly recognized.

"Sorry to disappoint… Hideki-san," Izaya took advantage of the surprised silence to hook his ankle around the IV pole he had been pulling painstakingly closer as he'd been talking. The rattling, clattering noise the pole made as it fell caused the person pinning him down to shift backwards, startled. It wasn't as much as Izaya had hoped for, but as he grit his teeth he knew it was the best chance he was going to get.

Izaya shifted his weight abruptly, twisting out from beneath his attacker and throwing the man off balance. Sensing the oncoming attack, Izaya threw up his right arm to protect his head. The blade that had been intended for his neck bit into plaster and thankfully went no further. Izaya pushed back, throwing his opponent further off balance and somersaulting forward, out of his enemy's range. He spun and popped to his feet in a move that had his entire body protesting.

His attacker had also climbed to his feet and was comfortably tensed in an attack stance, blade held in a backhand grip. He was a couple inches taller than Izaya, with a lean build and long black hair pulled into a warrior's top knot. He wore dark clothes, loose enough to conceal weapons, but not so loose as to obstruct his movement. The casual grace and sharp eye movements bespoke professionalism. The wide, too sharp grin spoke of a sadistic sort of enjoyment.

And he was between Izaya and the door.

"You know me," It was a statement more than a question, but Izaya noted the surprise nonetheless. He grinned in reply, fighting the unsteadiness in his legs.

"Shimono Hideki, also known as the Faceless Killer. Apparently everyone who has seen his face hasn't lived to tell about it." Izaya answered casually, holding out an arm palm-up in a pseudo-shrug.

"I didn't start the rumors," the assassin answered with a lazy shrug and almost apologetic smile, "but they ended up serving my purpose."

 _I know_ Izaya thought with an internal grimace, _I started them._ Hideki had worked for the Awasuku-kai at one point, and while they had never met, Izaya had spent time observing him. He had started the rumors for fun, but hadn't expected them to balloon out of control like they had. It had been fascinating to see the relatively new assassin grow into the person the rumors made him out to be. _It's a shame he left when he did, he was really interesting._

"Scary," Izaya smirked, finding he had to lock his knees to keep his legs from folding beneath himself, "I wonder who sent such a dangerous assassin after someone like me?" _The obvious answer is the Awasuku-kai…_ Though it didn't seem likely. Shiki was more likely to deal with Izaya personally, to make a statement. And that would be much, much worse.

"Do you intend to haunt them in the next life?" chuckled his attacker.

"Who knows?" Izaya shrugged, leaning against the bed behind him with an ill-concealed grimace. _Not the yakuza then. At least, not Shiki._ "Maybe… or maybe I can offer you a better deal." The informant narrowed his eyes, allowing a smile of his own to pull at his lips.

"You want to pay me off?" Hideki scoffed, rolling his eyes, but never relaxing, "how boring. I apologize for thinking you were any different from any other mark." The assassin tensed, preparing to move forward.

Knowing he was toeing a very thin line, Izaya leaned back, casually ignoring the aggressive stance.

"Oh sure, I'd pay you with money," he said nonchalantly, "but I think we both know that's never really interested you. I can give you what you really want." He was in danger of overplaying his hand, but his body was starting to make his various injuries known. Izaya was pretty sure he had re-cracked a rib with his earlier roll.

"What I really want." The tone was flat, but Izaya detected the tiniest hint of curiosity. He grinned, locking eyes with the assassin.

"The money has never been your motivation. You kill because you love the thrill. The contracts you take are your lifeline to morality. You are a tool, killing for other's sake, because as long as you only kill those contracted, you're above a common murderer." Izaya savored the hard glint in Hideki's eyes for a moment before continuing. "I am an information broker. I know the kind of people who would have use for an accomplished killer, and I know enough of them to keep you busy for an indefinite amount of time." Izaya leaned back again, looking away from the assassin, supporting his weight on his good arm.

Silence followed for a long moment. _I wonder if he'll accept?_ Having an assassin on a leash might not be a bad thing. Izaya wasn't really into killing humans; he had no interest in watching dead humans after all, but an man with Hideki's reputation could be used in other ways…

 _Huh, maybe I can get him to kill Shizu-chan?_

"Not bad," Hideki admitted, "I'll take it back. You put up the most interesting bargain I've heard yet. Unfortunately for you though," he continued with a note of finality, " a contract is a contract."

Izaya prided himself on his reflexes. With his sizeable list of enemies it was imperative for him to stay one step ahead at all times, both figuratively and in some cases literally. So he was quick.

Hideki was faster.

Izaya had expected him to be, but it still took him by surprise just _how fast_ the assassin moved. Hideki lunged for him and instead of rolling backwards off the bed like he had planned, the informant found himself barely able to get his legs up fast enough to keep from being pinned again.

The world slowed for a long painful second, Izaya's brain processing all the details in bursts of sensory input.

The overhead light the glinted off the blade intending to open his throat.

The feel of metal on bone as the weapon missed it's intended target and ground along the length of his collarbone instead.

The smell of antiseptic and the eucalyptus cleaner that Celty used to sterilize the room mixed with soap and shampoo that still clung to the towel around his neck.

The taste of bile in the back of his throat that he would like to believe was from pain and not fear.

The sound of four centimeters of surgical steel, in the form of a hidden scalpel he'd tactfully palmed during the conversation, burying itself into the right eye of his attacker.

There was a grunt of surprised pain, but no scream.

The world snapped back into high speed, Izaya managing to flip the assassin over himself in a move that was smoother than he could have honestly hoped for, given the circumstances. A deafening crash, accompanied by the sound of wood splintering, vials smashing and general clattering informed Izaya his assailant had probably collided with one of the shelves lining the walls. He rolled off the cot, staggering to his feet and risking a glance back.

Somehow, impossibly, Hideki was already on his feet, one hand clutching his face where the scalpel was still embedded, blood flowing freely down his chin. His other hand still held the tanto in a ready position and for the barest of moments his remaining eye met Izaya's and he smiled, too sharp and too large.

It wasn't rage, or vengeance or determination in the gaze, but the manic gleam of utter _bloodlust._ For a brief moment Izaya felt his breath catch and his body freeze up.

 _Shit…_

And then his instincts kicked in and Izaya scrambled to get out of the room, nearly tripping over the downed IV pole in his haste. His chest protested the abuse he was forcing on it and his right shoulder felt awash with warm pain and a worrisome tingling where the knife had cut.

He stumbled out the doorway, using the doorjamb as a support and leaving a bloodied smear. A sharp pain in his calf made him glance down. He took note of the throwing knife that had nicked his leg and was now embedded in the far wall, end still quivering. Without another look back Izaya half limped, half ran for the kitchen, heart thundering in his throat.

 _How is he still…?!_

"Agh!" Izaya's knee caught the coffee table and he stumbled, barely catching himself. Several movie cases, sheaves of paper and a stack of coasters went flying. Everything was spinning and just keeping his balance was becoming a near impossible task. He would never outrun the as assassin. _Which means…_

His instincts warned him he was being closely pursued. He heard the faint sound of footsteps on the scattered papers as he reached the kitchen counter, more sprawling on it than leaning and gasping when his chest collided with the marble. Spying his goal, Izaya reached for the knife block. His hand grabbed air, missing the handle of the largest knife. He tried again, shaking fingers straining for the weapon that his eyes were telling him was closer than it was.

The world was tilting underneath his feet, the counter with it and he couldn't seem to breathe properly. His hand finally grasped the knife in a clumsy hold and he turned slowly, far too slowly.

Hideki's face was inches from his own, awash in blood and smiling in a way that was too wide, too sharp for his face.

Before Izaya even had the chance to lift the knife, the ground lurched horribly, coming up to meet his head. He gagged as his body hit the kitchen floor, pain exploding behind his eyelids. Even from the floor, everything spun and lurched, his body strangely heavy and his leg burning where the throwing knife had cut him. Even through the muddle that was his brain he made the connection.

"Poison…?" Izaya rasped, trying to force his face into a smirk.

"A paralytic," the assassin grinned, looking manic with the sharp teeth and blood that still flowed from the squinted eye, "I'm done taking chances." He slowly lifted his arm making sure Izaya saw the bloodied scalpel held between his fingers. "I do plan on taking my time though. What's the saying? An eye for an eye?"

Izaya tried to force his body to move, to shift, to do anything. He could see the kitchen knife a few mere inches from his hand, but no amount of effort would convince his arm to move, his body a lead weight. Even his breathing was becoming labored and difficult.

 _No…_

Hideki followed Izaya's gaze and, still grinning, he casually bent over and picked up the kitchen knife.

"It's been too long since someone gave me a proper challenge, you know," he said in a soft clipped tone, turning the knife over in his hand and examining it. He seemed to be ignoring the blood covering his face, running down his neck and chest, as though the gouged eye were a mere inconvenience. "Really. Thank you. This makes this part so much more rewarding."

Hideki straddled Izaya's body, bringing the blade towards his face. Izaya struggled to inhale, the added weight of Hideki's body on his chest making it impossible. He couldn't deny the icy fingers of fear wrapping his heart in a tight grip any longer.

"You're right about me actually," the assassin said softly, "I do love this part. There is nothing in the world that can compare to the feeling you get watching the life go out of someone's eyes…" He leaned in closer, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "Are you afraid?" There was a certain glee in Hideki's eyes.

It was the glee of a child on Christmas morning.

The glee of a wife hearing she is pregnant after years of trying.

The glee of a man with a winning lottery ticket.

It was familiar.

It was the glee Izaya felt watching his humans react to the situations he put them in.

The familiarity was entirely too humanizing. It shook him more than even the thought of death for that moment.

His fear was quick to return, however when the point of the blade touched his cheek, right below his eye.

 _Wait…_

The tip of the knife pressed ever so slightly, drawing blood.

Then an explosion like the sound of a gunshot thundered through the room.

"Shit-" Hideki swore, glancing behind him and pulling the knife away from Izaya's face for one long, relieving second, before plunging it into Izaya's throat.

The world shattered like glass. Sound, touch, smell, taste and sight breaking into millions of pieces, swirling together and then…

Nothing.

And then…

Something.

And he found himself wishing for the nothing.

-DRRR-

Shizuo was in the middle of a job with Tom when the call came.

Or he was at home.

Or at Russian Sushi.

Honestly, it all meant shit when the call came.

His day had been going pretty well.

Or maybe it had been shitty.

That didn't matter either.

What did matter was the nurse on the other end of the line, telling him he was receiving this call because he was the emergency contact.

And that sort of surprised him.

Or it didn't really, if he thought about it, because of course it would be him.

That was also not important.

"-Heiwajima Kasuka suffered several injuries, including a fractured left ulna, right humerus, several broken ribs and a sizeable concussion. He has yet to wake up-"

Shizuo must have asked how it happened. He didn't remember doing it, but he did recall the answer.

"He was the victim of a mugging apparently. The police are investigating, but there seems to be some gang involvement while he was filming in Saitama."

 _Gang involvement._

 _Victim._

 _Two broken arms, ribs and a concussion._

 _KASUKA._

Shizuo knew rage. He knew the feeling of losing all control to the burning red fire that was rage. He knew the feeling of being a passenger in his own body to that anger.

He also knew The Calm. He knew the empty emotionless efficiency of meting out his version of justice by any means necessary. It was the cold blue feeling of losing control.

He had recently begun to suspect the rage and the Calm were one and the same and that it was something completely _other_ from Shizuo himself.

This feeling was not rage. It was not the Calm. It was neither, and both and _more._ He wasn't a passenger in his body this time. He was wildly, chaotically in control. If there was something _other_ in him, for the first time, Shizuo was not fighting against it, but with it.

An emotion so white hot, so pure, so _powerful_ took ahold and he let it. He directed it.

 _ **IZAYA.**_

The line had been crossed. The frail bond of his promise to himself meaningless against the onslaught of raw, unbridled emotion.

He felt the regret for not finishing the job when he had the chance, the resentment for even considering giving the informant a chance, the disgusted incredulity that Izaya would go this far, followed quickly by the bitter self-loathing for attributing any morals at all to his most hated enemy.

It all poured into him, feeding the cyclone inside him, making him feel unstoppable. He pitied anything that got in his way.

The journey to Shinra's happened in brief flashes that he could barely remember. He wasn't sure if he had walked, taken the train, bus or a taxi. Shizuo could faintly recall walking down an empty sidewalk, everyone giving him a wide berth.

He was in front of the apartment and in the elevator before he knew it. There were no uncertain thoughts plaguing him during this ride up. Shizuo couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so singularly driven.

 _ **He must pay.**_

…Actually it might have been that night he'd finally caught the flea bastard.

There was no regrets now though. He strode purposefully out of the elevator, pulse thundering in his ears.

 _ **He has to die.**_

He didn't knock. If Shinra or Celty answered there was no way they wouldn't be able to read the killing intent radiating from his every pore.

The door was locked, but there was no way in hell something as trivial as a door would stop him.

Shizuo kicked down the door hard enough to rip it from the hinges, the entire apartment shaking with the force.

Some part of his mind took in the upended coffee table, scattered kitchen utensils, splatters of blood and the surprised figure holding a scalpel, face awash with blood.

None of it mattered.

Because beneath the figure was his real target.

 _ **Kill him!**_

The only thing in the room that mattered.

The figure swore and plunged the scalpel into Izaya's throat, but Shizuo was already next to him, grabbing the man by his arm and _hurling_ him. There was the sound of shattering glass from what had probably been the balcony doors. Shizuo turned back to his intended target, hardly noticing the blood literally pouring from his enemy's neck.

Shizuo reached out, intending to crush Izaya, once and for all and his world shattered…

 _ **She must be destroyed.**_

 **A/N: This was supposed to be longer… sorry. This story is getting pretty convoluted, so hopefully I can manage to produce something that makes sense by the end…**

 **Still with me?**


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: I live! Also, content warning for this chapter.**_

" _What…?" Something was wrong, but he couldn't say what. He didn't even know what 'right' felt like._

" _What is this?" Was he speaking? Thinking? It was black, empty everywhere. Was he turning? Were his eyes open or closed…_

 _Did he even have eyes?_

" _This is stupid, of course I have eyes…" He was certain of it. He had eyes, and a mouth and ears. Arms, legs, a torso. Hands…_

 _It felt like a tremendous effort to recall all these pieces of himself, carefully pulling himself back together. Senses came slowly, eventually he was aware of a pressure on his feet… ground. He took a cautious step and heard the sound his foot made on the floor._

" _Where am I?" Like trying to recall a drunken night he pushed himself to recall the last solid memory he could._

 _There was a sidewalk, a street, cold wind._

 _There were train tracks and an ominous deep whistle._

 _More._

 _There was running. A lot of running._

 _An apartment with a white cot-_

 _Still more._

 _A familiar face-_

 _Black…_

 _Confusion…_

 _Something sharp-_

 _Almost…_

 _An overwhelming feeling…_

 _IZAYA._

Everything clicked suddenly and Shizuo remembered the rage-fueled sprint that had brought him to Shinra's apartment. The singular desire to _destroy_ Izaya.

…so where was he now?

Everything was still black, though he could feel the ground beneath his feet. It felt too solid to be a dream, but to strange to be reality. So what was this? Shizuo took a cautious step forward and the ground seemed to hold just fine.

"This is probably his fault, somehow," Shizuo grumbled, slightly surprised to hear the sound of his voice in this nothingness. His second surprise was the fact that he couldn't seem to muster up that all-consuming rage that had driven him here in the first place. He was pissed, sure, but that white-hot pure bolt of emotion wasn't there anymore.

It actually made him a little uncomfortable.

Shizuo tried sifting through his emotions as he continued walking, trying to find that spark of raw anger. Trying to find that _other_ thing.

He was so focused on his own thoughts it took him a couple of moments to realize the ground had changed. His feet stuck to the ground a little more, like he was stepping in something thick, and vaguely sticky. _What…?_

A strange feeling of dread settled in Shizuo's stomach. He glanced down, noting the dark substance that seemed to coat his shoes. Suddenly realizing he could _see_ , Shizuo looked up sharply.

Ahead of him was a hazy light, roiling with tendrils of inky shadows. It reminded him of Celty's shadows actually. There was movement.

Shizuo found himself swallowing thickly as he made his way towards the light, unsure why he was suddenly feeling so uneasy.

There were sounds as he came closer.

Wet pops and snaps.

Dripping.

A sharp gag.

Something under his shoe squished and he didn't look down.

His mind, unbidden, briefly flashed to a nature documentary he'd watched as a kid with predators tearing into-

The smell hit him and he had to swallow hard to keep from retching.

 _Shit…_ He was actually shaking. Fighting every instinct that told him to turn away, Shizuo moved closer.

The inky shadows parted with a violent movement and Shizuo caught a glimpse of the back of a figure, tall and imposing, wreathed in light, and tearing at something below it with vicious swipes. A gout of liquid darkness burst from beneath the illuminated figure, spraying out in a fine mist. Shizuo could feel a few stray droplets land on his arm and didn't need to examine them to know what it was. The cloying coppery smell hung heavy in the air.

He moved forward, torn between creeping dread and morbid curiosity, heart hammering in his chest.

Some part of him knew but…

The figure stabbed a hand down and there was a wet tearing noise and a slight gargle. The figure wrenched his hand back out, holding something lumpy and darkly glistening. With casual ease, the human-shaped creature crushed the fleshy lump, flicking the thick strands of darkness off its hands.

And Shizuo recognized the figure.

His anger.

The Calm.

The _other._

"Azrael." He didn't know where the name came from, but it felt right. The thing that had been a part of him for as long as he could remember. The anger. The hatred. The power. His inner demons.

He had never expected it to be so literal.

The figure turned slowly, Shizuo feeling a sudden regret for calling attention to himself. Just as the profile of the demon's face came into view it disappeared.

Or rather everything seemed to disappear, leaving Shizuo kneeling in-

 _When did I kneel…?_

-something wet and warm, soaking his pants, running down his arms-

 _What is this…?_

-the smell was thick and nauseating, shadows pooling and eddying around him and with a sudden sense of vertigo he realized he was kneeling exactly where he'd seen the figure. Shizuo looked down and everything froze for a moment.

The disemboweled body beneath him, filleted like a cut of meat-

 _This isn't what I wanted-_

"Izaya…" His voice rasped, foreign to his own ears, stretched thin with horror. Even in his darkest rage, this was far worse than anything he could have-

The body's chest shuddered and Shizuo froze in disbelief. The skin on the body was flayed open, _the heart and lungs were literally missing,_ crushed to pulp and splattered about. He must be imagining-

A sudden gasping sound made Shizuo's blood run cold and pulled his gaze up to the body's -to _Izaya's_ face. The one remaining eye was glazed over with pain, but turned to him with an intense expression he didn't understand.

"Finish it!"

Shizuo jumped at the sudden booming voice and his gaze snapped up to see the figure again. Azrael.

"What…?" He felt his voice cracking, something that hadn't happened since high school.

"You must kill her," Azrael spoke with thunderous authority, the light blossoming behind him making him a striking figure, "before she regains her strength."

Shizuo could feel the beginnings of an irritated headache forming in the back of his head. He welcomed the familiarity of it.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Pandora must not be allowed to escape." Azrael said, thundering voice rattling Shizuo's chest.

"What-" Shizuo was abruptly cut off when the body beneath him convulsed hard, spasming and twitching. He scrambled to get up, trying to get away. Shizuo watched in a horrified fascination as the dark liquid pooling around Izaya was pulled back into the body, tugging at his pants as it separated from the material as though drawn back magnetically. Ribs reknit with harsh snapping and popping sounds. Organs reformed pooling into the chest cavity.

"Shizuo!" Azrael ordered, "you must kill him!"

Maybe he was still shell-shocked from the last couple of minutes, but Shizuo felt strangely calm as he dusted off his now-clean pants and stood up fully.

"I don't know if this is some kind of test or something. Honestly I don't really care since I already made my decision. If you think you can order me around because you're some scary demon or whatever," Shizuo turned his gaze to look directly at Azrael now, "then fuck you."

"You don't understand what's at stake!" Azrael growled, "you've let her escape. I won't let it happen again." He moved with supernatural speed, suddenly beside Shizuo. "Those are the vocal chords I believe. Time to leave."

"Huh?" Shizuo frowned as Azrael stepped through him and disappeared. _What did he mean-_

A soul-rending scream suddenly tore through the emptiness, making Shizuo's skin crawl. It took him a stunned moment to recognize it as Izaya's.

 _Vocal chords…_

With a sudden chill, Shizuo realized the expression he'd seen in that lone eye was the look of someone screaming endlessly without a voice.

A tangle of shadows enveloped him, pulling him up, up, up into light and he finally opened his eyes for real.

-DRRR-

"But I received a call just an hour ago," Shinra protested, "I was told it was an emergency!"

"I'm sorry, Kishitani-sensei," the sharply dressed man said, "the boss is fine, there's no need for your services."

"But..."

"It is noted however," the yakuza member continued, "that your haste to arrive speaks for your dependability and loyalty. While unnecessary, it is greatly appreciated," He punctuated this sentiment with a low bow. Too flustered to reply, Shinra scratched the back of his head and turned away. Celty was still waiting for him in the parking lot and despite this frustration he felt a smile tug at his lips when he saw the worry in her posture.

 **Is everything okay, Shinra? What happened?**

"Apparently it was nothing more than a prank call, my love," Shinra said, securing his unneeded medical kit to the rear of Celty's bike. Celty was quiet for a moment and Shinra knew she was thinking the same thing he was. A prank call was one thing, but who would fake a call from a high-ranking yakuza that just so happened to live on the other side of the city?

 **Izaya?**

"That was my first assumption as well," Shinra agreed.

 **You don't think he did this though? Then… someone else who wanted us out of the way…**

"I think so," Shinra grimaced, pushing up his glasses.

 **We should hurry-** Celty's message notification cut her off mid-sentence, and she tapped the icon hesitantly. Shinra waited, first with patience then concern as Celty began gripping the device more tightly.

"What's wrong?"

In reply, Celty showed him the screen. It was a weather warning bulletin.

"Earthquakes…tectonic shifting… ooh that's bad, that could cause a-" he stopped as Celty scrolled down, "tsunami… right." They stared at each other in mute fear for a moment before a low whine began filling the air, increasing in pitch and volume.

"Evacuation sirens…" Shinra murmured unnecessarily, "Celty…"

 **I know. We have to go back. Get on.**

"Celty!" Shinra exclaimed, grinning wildly and gripping her tightly around the middle.

 **Make sure you hold on tight, it's slippery. This weather lately has been unbelievable.**

Behind Celty's back and safe from her ethereal eyes, Shinra's smile dropped slightly. _Yes, it's been unbelievable all right. Supernatural even._

Celty revved the bike, rear tires spinning for a moment before catching on pavement. They raced off down the slippery streets, darkening clouds and air raid sirens warning them otherwise.


End file.
